Rules of the Game
by book.junkie.1996
Summary: AH. Max is the star basketball player at her school, the senior expected to take the team all the way to State. Fang is the cocky senior basketball player at his school, also expected to go to State. The only problem? They go to rival schools.
1. Chapter 1

**Max**

_So this is what death feels like, _I told myself. Sweat was pouring off of my body and all of my limbs wanted to give out, but I forced my legs to keep going. _Last one, Max, keep going,_ I encouraged myself. I made it back to the edge of the basketball court and turned on my heel. My suicide was almost over. I just had to finish running to the other side and back. My lungs burned as I pushed myself further.

"Nice job, Max," Jeb said as I slowed to a jog. He nodded encouragingly when I didn't stop to sit down, instead starting to walk it off to safely lower my heart rate.

Jeb was the girls' basketball coach. He told us to call him Coach Batchelder at the first practice, but that was a mouthful and he didn't object, so we always called him Jeb, Batch, or J-Batch.

"That was absolute _torture_," my friend Madison said as she caught up with me. We just continued to walk laps around the gym until the rest of the girls-mostly freshmen or new players-finished their suicides.

"No kidding," I muttered back. I glanced down at my left ankle, which had just finished healing from a sprain a week or so ago. I'd been worried about it, but so far it hadn't started acting up. Good. No way was I going to miss Districts.

"Max, Maddie!" called Jeb. We saw that everybody was now just walking around the gym to cool down, so we jogged over to where Jeb was in the opposite corner.

"Yeah, Coach Batchelder?" Maddie asked politely. Jeez. The little kiss-up just wasted two point five seconds of my life by saying something else. And by God, I could've spent those two point five seconds doing something way more valuable with my time!

Ha ha, me and my sarcasm.

"You two are the two seniors this year who the underclassmen are looking up to." I almost snickered, but Jeb caught my eye with a strict face that made me think better of it. "Some of them think it's dumb that they still have to practice even though only varsity plays at Districts. So in the locker room could you...give them a little pep talk or something?"

"Of course!" Maddie smiled hugely, and she seemed genuinely excited. Both of them turned to me.

"Of course!" I mocked, trying to sound just as ecstatic as Maddie had, but my sore throat kind of ruined it by making me croak like a frog.

"Thanks." Jeb smiled thankfully. Then he cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, "Two laps and you're done!" His booming voice echoed in the hollow gym.

Maddie and I took off, having found energy knowing that after this we would be done.

"Anyone need a ride?" I asked when everyone was in the locker room. Everybody was beautifying themselves, and I'd just thrown on some sweatpants and called it good.

"No thanks," everybody chorused, and I waved and left, hurrying out to my car. It was hotter than hell out, and all I wanted was to get to my car and get the air blasting.

I threw my bag in the back seat, got the air going, and headed straight over to the Coleman household. I was babysitting Gazzy and Angel, siblings who were polar opposites and had names and attitudes to prove it.

"Hello, Max," said Mrs. Coleman, holding the front door open as soon as I got out of the car. "Did you just have practice?"

"Uh, yeah," I said, smiling embarrassedly. I quickly pulled on a sweatshirt over my cutoff T-shirt. "Sorry about that."

I stepped inside and saw Angel and Gazzy sitting on the couch, watching something on Nickelodeon. They both looked up when they saw me, their huge blue eyes twinkling like angels'.

"Thanks again, Max," Mr. Coleman said, fixing his tie in front of the mirror. He went and put an arm around his wife's waist. "We shouldn't be too late. Just heading to the new restaraunt."

"Oh, don't worry about time. I've got no plans. Have fun." I smiled and waved, shutting the door when they left. The moment I did, Gazzy was up and moving around the house at the speed of a bullet.

"Where's my G.I. Joe, Angel?" he demanded furiously as he came back into the living room. His blonde curls had somehow become unkempt and wild in the two seconds he'd been out of my sight.

"I didn't mess with it," Angel said.

"Are you okay watching _Spongebob _alone for a few minutes?" I asked. Angel nodded, and I set off to help Gazzy find his G.I. Joe.

**XxX**

It took four hours overall to find Gazzy's toy, get the pizza in the oven, force the kids to _eat _the pizza, and get them to bed. By then it was ten o'clock, and I'd recieved a text from Mrs. Coleman saying that the restaraunt had been busier than they'd intended and they would be later than they thought.

I was sitting on the couch eating a slice of cold pizza and watching _CSI: New York _when they finally got back.

"I am _so _sorry, Max," Mrs. Coleman stated the moment they pushed through the door. "The restaraunt was just so much busier than we thought it would be, and I'd hoped to be home by-"

"It's fine, really," I interrupted. I stood up, wiping the crumbs from the pizza crust onto my sweats, and said, "Just let me know if you need a babysitter again."

"Of course. Is this enough?" Mr. Coleman handed me two twenty dollar bills.

"That's more than enough. Thank you." I smiled and managed to get out of there.

I figured Maddie and my friends were at a movie or something, and my Friday night was pretty much ruined, so I drove to Sonic to get a slushy. I ordered my usual and sat there for a few minutes, wondering why Sonic took so long on just one drink when I was pretty much the only customer here.

Finally, after about ten minutes of waiting, I got out and shoved my hands in the pocket of my hoodie. I wandered over to one of the tables and sat down, reveling in the cool breeze. Jeez, I needed to shower. Usually I'd always shower in the locker room after a practice as vigorous as today's, but I'd been in a hurry to get to the Colemans'. They probably thought I had major B.O. now. Fantastic.

"Is that your car?" asked a voice. The Sonic guy holding my drink gestured to my car.

"Yeah. How much was that again?"

"Three sixty-five," the guy said. I dug into my pocket, came up with a five dollar bill, and sipped on my drink while he counted out my change.

"Thanks." I grabbed my drink and got back in my car, taking another big gulp and starting it. I glanced at the clock. Only ten-thirty. Surely the party at Adam Duvall's was still going on.

I got there fifteen minutes later and, sure enough, his driveway was still flooding with cars. Adam threw _the _parties to go to. He lived out of town with a huge yard, his closest neighbor's were two miles away, and his parents were constantly on vacation, so he was popular for having everything teenagers wanted on a Friday night. Beer and hooking up.

In the backyard there was a huge bonfire going. I looked around until I found somebody I knew and, well, _liked_.

"Hey, Tyler," I said, jogging over with a light skip in my step. I sat beside him on the cooler he was on.

"Hi, Max." He took a big swig out of whatever was in his plastic red cup, and I was glad when he didn't offer it to me.

Tyler was my ex-boyfriend. I'd dated him from the start of my sophomore year to the end of my junior one. He was a year older and had planned to move far away for college, so we'd split. Too bad he only ended up going to the university in town. He was everything I _hated _in a guy-the cocky football player, the guy who dated every girl, the alcohol-drinker-and yet I knew he cared about me. Just not as a girlfriend anymore. He was still _way _protective, even though I'd broken up with him.

"What're you doing here? I figured you'd be at college parties by now." I nudged him gently.

"The college football coach would know if we went to college parties, and we're not supposed to be at any parties. So most of the team comes to high school ones."

"Are those the mature college guys I should look forward to for next year?" I questioned, watching a group of about eight completely drunk guys playing catch with a beer can.

"Hell yes." Tyler smirked and put an arm around my shoulder. "So how's basketball?"

"Ugh. Today's practice was _torture_. I thought I was dying. But Jeb's a way better coach than the one we had last year, so we've got a pretty good chance at State." I leaned into Tyler and thought about last year's Sectionals. Our old coach had made us stall when we were ten points ahead at halftime, and the stalling had only gotten them ahead. In the last minute of the game our team got too desperate so we fouled them one too many times. They went to State after we lost by one point, and they ended up coming in second.

"I remember last year's Sectionals game," Tyler said, as if reading my mind. He'd done that a lot while we were dating. It was creepy.

"Hmm," I muttered. "What do you remember about it?"

"I remember that there were two seconds left when you got the ball, and all you could do was dribble it. As soon as the buzzer went off you threw it over your shoulder and went over to your chair and buried your face in a towel so nobody would see you cry."

"Hmm." I looked up at him and saw that he was looking down at me. "Yeah, I was just a little upset. I'm over it."

"I don't think you are." Tyler smirked at me. "And that's why you're so aggressive this year, and why the team's doing so good."

"Whatever." I leaned away from him, successfully making him take his arm away from over my shoulder. I so did not need him and the drama that came with him anymore. "So how's college football?"

"It sucks. Back to being a freshman, you know? I used to be the best player on this team. Now I'm on the bench for most of the game."

"Only till you're a junior or senior." I was trying to reassure him, but he just chuckled and took another big drink out of his cup.

I'd never really seen the affection for that. Drowning your sorrows with alcohol? No thanks. I'd never drank a day in my life, and I was probably the only senior at my school that could truthfully say that. No, when I was sad I had my own therapy, one that seemed to be ruling my life lately.

Basketball.

**Fang**

I pulled off my shirt and dove into the water after my friends, wearing only my baggy black shorts. I surfaced, shaking my shaggy wet hair out of my face.

"Hey, Fang, it's Lissa," yelled one of my friends in a very feminine voice. I'm pretty sure it was Jon.

Vince picked up, adding to Jon's statement so that it was a game of tease Fang. "Yeah. Come here, Fang, I need you now."

"You shouldn't be teasing, guys," I said, pulling myself up onto the diving board. We were at Jon's house, swimming past midnight since his parent's were gone. "At least a girl at school wants me."

"Hey! It's not like we're virgins," came Vince. His voice was no longer high and squeaky, more low and defensive now.

"How many girls have you slept with, Vince? Two, was it?" I laughed and slapped Jon's hand, then dove neatly off the board and back into the water. I used to be a diver, before I discovered basketball. And I'd never once considered going back. Hell no. Basketball was too fun.

"You ever noticed that girls are always dedicated to one guy, and guys are _proud _to say they've slept with multiple girls?" Jon asked. Yeah, I was shocked too. But believe it or not, every once in a while my intelligent friends would have smart moments, epiphanies, whatever you want to call them.

"My mom says that's because girls are more 'in-control' of their emotions." I rolled my eyes, and Vince proceeded to speak my thoughts.

"Whatever! Girls' emotions are so fucking unpredictable. One second they're practically loopy they're in such a good mood, and the next everything you say is wrong!"

We waded around in the pool for a few more minutes, trying to out-do each other by doing really cocky, arrogant, and probably dangerous stuff of the diving board. Then we grabbed a basketball from the garage and shot some hoops.

"We're going all the way to State this year, baby," I said, just before I straightened my arms and legs out to sink a three-pointer. Or what I estimated was a three-pointer. It's not like Jon's driveway had the lines painted on it.

"Hell yeah," Jon agreed loudly, jumping up and grabbing the ball. He dribbled it around and added, "First time since...what? 1997?"

"1998," Vince interrupted. He sighed. "My dad won't let me forget that he was a senior the last time we went to State."

I stole the ball from Jon and sunk another shot as I changed the subject. "Are you guys going to the girls' game Monday?"

"Where's it at?"

I thought for a moment then said, "Lawson."

"Well then no shit, of course I'm going." Vince looked at me like I was a retard. "They're our freaking rivals! Everyone's going to go, from both schools! They're supposed to be our girls' biggest competition for State."

"Not to mention their whole team is hot," Jon spat out randomly.

Vince and I turned to look at him, giving him a look that no doubt made him feel stupid. Good. He was sometimes.

"What? We have, like, two hot girls on our team. You can't help but notice, dude." He held up his hands defensively.

"Well," I muttered, dribbling the ball and making another shot, "you can't argue with the truth."

* * *

**So there's the first chapter (basically the character introduction) of Rules of the Game! Did you like? So I've got an option for readers. On my poll this story actually tied with Three Little Words (the snowboarding one). Do you guys want me to have both stories going with less frequent updates, or do you want me to just do this one for now? Lemme know in a review! (:**


	2. Chapter 2

**Yup, it's decided. I'm only doing this story for now. And as for Fang being OOC last chapter, I know. That was my goal. I have an older brother who's popular and a past boyfriend who was, so I know how differently guys act when they're with friends compared to when they're with family or something like that.**

**Max**

"Hey, Maddie," I said in the Spanish room, gesturing for my friend to come over. We had fifteen minutes till the bell rang and announced that school was over.

"Yeah?"

"Want to come to Lonn's office with me? Get my ankle wrapped up." I gestured down to my ankle. It still hadn't started acting up, but Jeb wanted to be safe and wrap it. I'd already gotten in plenty of trouble for not wrapping it at Friday's practice. No way was I being benched for not wrapping my ankle that's already freaking healed.

"Sure." We waved to Senora Karson, who didn't even ask where we were going, and left the room. "God," Maddie sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I hate Mondays."

"Doesn't everybody?" I asked, and she nodded in agreement. I stopped at the vending maching, grabbed a Nutter Butter, and soon we were in Lonn's office.

"Can I help you girls?" he asked as he came around the corner. For being our school's athletic director, the dude was _tiny_. He was probably just over five feet tall, and he couldn't weigh over 100 pounds. But somehow his military-style cut and his past as a cop helped him...not get ignored by students.

"I need my ankle wrapped for the game." I hopped up onto one of the padded beds and leaned against the wall, removing my shoe and sock so that they wouldn't be in the way.

I watched as he wrapped it tightly, and he applied pressure with his hands when it was all on.

"Feel okay, Max?" he asked.

"Yep. I don't know why it even needs wrapped so badly." I rolled my eyes, but knew better than to argue. I pulled my shoe back on, listening to Lonn talk.

"Well better safe than sorry, right? It'd suck if you made it to State but couldn't play because you didn't want to wrap your ankle." Lonn shot me a strict look, as if he thought I'd remove the tape or something. Which... Well, I wasn't going to do it _now_. Not after what he'd just said.

"Yeah, yeah." I looked over at Maddie, who was impatiently picking at her nails. "Ready?"

"Let's goooo," she replied, grabbing my wrist and pulling me away just as the bell rang.

**XxX**

"Oh. My. God. These uniforms are so badass." Maddie was standing in front of the mirror in the locker room, admiring herself in the brand new uniforms we'd gotten. "Come look, Max!" She reached over and grabbed me arm, pulling me forcefully in front of the mirror. I had no choice but to look. And agree.

These uniforms _were _badass.

The shorts were long and baggy, reaching down to my knees, and they were shiny black. Down each side were two solid gold stripes. The top had no sleeves and it had a slight V-neck to it, but nothing major. It was also black with the same two gold stripes. In gold lettering on the front it said "Nixon" in big bold letters and, slightly smaller and just underneath slightly to the right, it said "Eagles" in script. On the back was the number 15 for me. We didn't get last names on uniform, since it was just high school ball.

"I see you're still rocking the tape, Max," said a junior, Hayley, sarcastically. She tapped the piece silver tape that was on top of my head, holding my flyaway hairs in place. See, even in its usual sloppy ponytail, I had all kinds of flyaway hairs. My head was oddly shaped for headbands or something, and bobby pins weren't allowed, so I used duct tape. Got all kinds of attention for it too.

"Hell yeah," I muttered, smirking at her.

"Girls!" called Jeb from just outside the locker room, which was our cue to hurry our butts up and get to the gym. I threw on the new warm-up tops, which were the same as the actual game tops except they didn't have the number on the back and they had T-shirt sleeves.

We all got lined up, me in the front, followed by Hayley. As soon as "All I Do Is Win" started blaring out of the overhead speakers in the gym, we slapped our hands on each side of the doorway for good luck and jogged out.

"Let's go, girls!" screamed Kara Marten excitedly. She was pretty much the leader of our student section. Tonight we were having a "black out," so everybody was sporting a black line under each of their eyes, as well as full-black outfits. A few of the more rowdy boys in the front had on Darth Vader costumes and masks.

I grabbed a ball from the rack and dribbled to the other side. The other team hadn't yet gotten out here, but I knew they were good. They were our rivals, the Bishop Panthers. Even though it was our last game of the actual season, we would be playing them in post-season games, like Districts. Possibly Sectionals, hopefully not State...

Their student section was relatively large. In basketball student sections are usually tiny or nonexistent, especially at away games. But today their student section had about eighty people, a row or two less than ours did.

I got in the back of the line to warm up layups, so I stood and stretched my arms, carefully rolling my ankle and putting weight on it from different angles.

Lindsey threw a ball at my chest, which I quickly caught. I sprinted out, throwing it to Hayley, and jogged to the three-point line. She then threw it back, and I sprinted up to the hoop. Girls on my team were warming up their defense, so I dodged them all and jumped up, easily sinking the ball through the net. We did this for a few minutes longer.

Next we warmed up three-pointers. I sunk four of the five I shot. Usually I played better in games, when I was under pressure.

As we put the balls back on the rack I watched the other team finish their warm-ups. And damn, they did look good. We were undefeated so far, but this game looked as if it might actually be a close one.

We went back to the locker room, where Jeb made sure it was safe to be and followed.

"Alright, girls, we all know Bishop has a good team," Jeb began as I pulled my warm-up top off over my head. I bundled it up and sat down, biting my thumbnail. "I want you guys to play hard, even from the beginning. Don't foul if it can be helped, but use that defense we've been working for." As he spoke, Jeb made eye contact with each and every one of us. His eyes stayed locked on mine for a moment longer than the others'. "Ignore the student sections. Don't let them get to your head. Bishop has a really annoying student section. They're going to treat you like our student section has treated everybody so far." Jeb finally stood up from where he'd been kneeling. "Play hard, girls." Then he walked away, off to take the clipboard to the announcer so our names would be right.

"You heard him, ladies," Maddie finally said.

We exited back to the gym, where the band was standing to begin the Star Spangled Banner. We lined up in the center of the gym, the other team right in front of us, the cheerleaders and dance team right behind us. We held hands and at the very end brought our hands up above our heads.

"Your starting lineup for the Bishop Panthers...," the announcer started to say, but I ignored him. That or our student section started to boo so loudly I couldn't hear him. I sat down in a seat at the edge, holding my bundled-up warm-up top to my chest and fighting the urge to bite my thumbnail. I got so nervous before games, but when I was out there it was fine. Except for free throws. I could puke every time I had to shoot a free throw.

"And now the starting lineup for your own Nixon Eagles!" Our student section slowly and reluctantly stood. Even if they were super-supportive (sarcasm; more like super-rude to the other team) they were a bunch of tired teenagers. "First up, number 27, junior Hayley Evans!" Hayley stood up and ran through the aisle made by the dance team. The guy went on, naming off the rest of our starters for the game (which did include Maddie), until it was just me and the subs on the bench. "And number 15, senior Max Martinez!"

I stood up and jogged through the tunnel, aware of the student section cheering loudly. I jumped into the circle of our starters. We bent down, our hands tight around each other's shoulders, and went left and right, yelling, "Aaah!" for about eight seconds. Then we yelled, "Let's kick butt!" On "let's" we stomped our right foot behind our left ankle, on "kick" we stomped it right behind, and on "butt" we...well, kicked our butts. Yeah.

Our circle dispersed and everybody got in their place. I got in the center, directly in front of a girl on the other team. I was tall, so I always did the swat at the beginning. This girl was tall of course, but still failry short. Maybe she had jumps or something.

The ref blew his whistle, tossed the ball up, and stepped back.

I had started in a crouch, and so I used all the force in my legs to jump up, extending them fully before leaving the ground. The other girl jumped higher than I'd expected, but I still swatted the ball. Maddie caught it, and so the game began.

She dribbled down to our hoop, but had to back up as multiple girls from the other team were already there, grabbing at the ball.

"Max!" Maddie yelled, and she threw the ball under one girl's arm. I caugh it from where I was, a few feet behind the three-point line. I decided not to take the risk barely a minute into the game, so I took a quick bound forward so that I was well inside the two-point range, which was a guarenteed shot for me. A girl jumped at me, swatting her arm out for the ball. But the ball was gone, so she shoved my chest forcefully.

I stumbled backward, not really because she'd pushed me that hard, more because I was keeping my eye on the ball. I'd thrown it a millisecond before she shoved me. It sunk through just as the ref blew his whistle on the other girl's foul. Our student section erupted in cheers.

Wow. Really? A free throw already? I hate free throws about as much as I hate banana pudding. Which is a lot. (I mean, seriously? Pudding is made to be chocolate. Go eat a freakin' banana if that's what you want.)

"You got it, Max," Lindsey said, high-fiving me lazily.

I wasn't sweating yet, but my breath was beginning to catch a little. I glanced at the scoreboard. Two points up, forty-eight seconds into the game.

The ref passed me the ball. I made sure my toes were just on the free throw line, bent my knees, and dribbled the ball a few times. Then, keeping my knees bent, I got prepped and ready. I straighted up and extended my arms, watching the ball go. I didn't jump on free throws like on my usual shots, for fear I would accidentally step over the line. I just lifted my heel and shot off my toe.

The ball went cleanly through, earning me a high-five from two more girls on the team.

I dribbled the ball again and repeated my method. This one wasn't so neat - it bounced off the backboard and on the rim twice - but it still went through.

"Nice shot, Max," I heard Jeb say from somewhere through the chaos.

I didn't even acknowledge him. The other team had rebounded and were now heading to the other end of the court.

I took one deep, steady breath, and sprinted after them.

**Fang**

"Na na na na...na na na na...hey hey hey...goodbye!" The other student section was chanting at us crazily, but me and my group couldn't care less.

So what if we'd lost? We'd all known they would anyway. Despite the fact that Nixon is our rival, we admit that their basketball girls are way better than ours.

And hotter too.

But it didn't matter, anyway. This game was just to provoke the student section, which we had achieved with a few chants of "airball" throughout the game. But very few. Their girls were good.

Our guys were going to State, though. I didn't care if Nixon placed last or second, but the Bishop boys basketball team was going to be the State champ this year.

"No, no, number nine," Jon argued with Drew, another senior. He gestured to the girl on Nixon's team with a nine on her back. They were huddled around the coach still, so all I could see was that she had insane calf muscles and dark hair, but I figured they were arguing over who was the best-looking.

"Whatever. Which one do you think, Fang?" Drew eyed me, tilting his head toward the other team.

"Whoever swatted at the beginning. She was hot." I shrugged.

"Fifteen? The one getting a drink?"

I looked over at the orange Gatorade stand. Sure enough, the girl who'd swatted, number fifteen, was chugging down some water. She was tall for a girl, nowhere near my 6'2'', but her tall physique made her slim. I could tell that she was athletic (like, more than one sport athletic) and worked out a lot. She had muscles on her legs that weren't overexcessive, but were definitely noticeable, and lean muscle on her upper arms that was the same way. She sported her long dark blonde hair in a messy ponytail, with something silver on top of her head.

"Yeah. That's her." I nodded and continued to look at the girl.

Every time somebody gestured toward her she would get this shy smirk on her face, almost like she was blushing, but no pink showed in her cheeks. So she seemed shy, but she also got in a smaller huddle with a few other girls when their coach's speech was done. So she was somewhat shy, but comfortable around people she was close to. I was guessing.

_Damn, _I thought, ignoring everything my friends were saying, _I would _not _mind bumping into her accidentally_. Yeah, Fang. Accidentally.

"Hey, guys, I'm gonna run to the concession stand," I said. Then I patted my left pocket, making sure I had my money. "Just go jump in the truck. And pee _before _we leave this time, right, Jon?"

"Screw you, Fang."

I rolled my eyes and left my friends, jogging out of the gym and to the concession stand. Since the game was over the huge crowd was in front of the doors, but once through there nobody was in my way.

"I'll have a chili frito pie, please. And a slice of pizza," I said, the moment I reached the counter. I wanted to get home and start on that stupid math assignment we had to do.

"Pepperoni or supreme?" asked the girl working there, who looked like a freshman. "We're out of everything else."

"Supreme." She nodded and got to it while I stood there, leaning against the counter, yawning, and pulling out my phone to reply to texts every so often.

"Hey, Nudge," said another voice. I saw the hot girl, number fifteen, come around the corner. She saw me but didn't acknowledge my presence.

"Hi, Max," said the girl behind the counter. She put my food down and said, "The chili frito pie will be another minute."

"Do you have any more popcorn?" asked the hot girl, Max. "I'm _starving_."

"Yeah, let me grab you some." Nudge smiled and turned to go off.

With Max preoccupied watching Nudge get the popcorn, I took this as the time to look her over more thoroughly. I could tell from here that her eyes were a deep shade of brown, and she had the slightest hint of freckles on her pale skin. She had a black bag with gold lettering slung over her shoulder, and she was now wearing baggy black sweatpants and a cutoff T-shirt that showed off her blue sports bra.

_Stop, Fang, _I told myself. I was liking this girl way too much.

"Hey," Max finally said, and I was surprised to see she was talking to me.

"Hey." Lame. "What's up?"

"Nothing much. I'm Max." She held her hand out. I took it in a firm grip and shook it once, letting my hand fall back to my side.

"Nick. But most people call me Fang." I smirked when her eyes flickered the tiniest bit at my nickname. I loved those reactions from people.

"Here ya go, Max," Nudge said, hopping lightly back. She put the popcorn on the counter in front of Max. "Sir," she said politely, and she put my frito pie beside my pizza.

What? Sir? What the hell was that ab -

"Max!" somebody yelled. It was some tall guy who I could see had a can of chew in his jean pocket.

"Just a sec, Tyler!" Max turned back and looked at me. She smiled, flashing a set of straight white teeth as she put a dollar on the counter and picked up her popcorn. "See ya later, Fang!" she called, and then she turned and jogged off.

"Yeah. See you later."

* * *

**I just now finished this all, and it's 10:30 and I'm tired. So sorry if it makes no sense. I hope you enjoyed anyway! (:**

** To midnightstar96: No, but my cousin is! I think. I don't know. I haven't talked to her in, like, two weeks (forever in our world) and I never pay much attention when the word "school" is brought up. But I believe she's in that district. I'm not, though.**

** So that reminded me... If you guys ever have any questions for me, no matter how random, just leave 'em in a review and I'll put my reply in the next chapter!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Um...yeah, last chapter when she was at the concession stand the game was over. I thought I made that clear, but sorry if I didn't. I'll make sure everybody gets that next time.**

* * *

**Max**

"Hey, Tyler," I said, jogging up to him. I grimaced a little bit when my left hip trembled.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said, brushing it off. "What'd you need?"

"Your family's waiting by the doors," Tyler explained, and he laughed when I rolled my eyes. "And Maddie." I broke into a huge smile.

"So you're the messenger, huh?"

Tyler rolled his eyes at me. "Who was that guy? He was wearing a Bishop sweatshirt."

"I'm well aware."

"Well you're grumpy so I'm gonna go talk to somebody else," Tyler said, but he stopped to say something else. "You coming to the party tonight?"

"Nah. Maddie and I are having our own little party. Besides, there's school tomorrow."

"Loser," Tyler teased, and then he went off to find somebody else to talk to.

I sighed and quickly ate my popcorn, tossing the bag into the nearest trash can. I rounded the corner to the doors, but the game had ended about fifteen minutes ago so there weren't very many people left. My family and Maddie were there.

My family only included Mom, who was a vet and looked nothing like me, and my brother Iggy who was a sophomore. He played basketball too but he, like me, had made varsity his sophomore year. Maddie stood off to the side texting somebody.

"Hey, guys," I said, shifting my bag onto my shoulder a little more. My hip was still bothering me.

"Nice game, Max," Iggy said, and Mom just nodded. She didn't really understand basketball. She'd just put me into a league when I was seven so that I would have something to do and I wouldn't complain about being bored.

"Excited for Districts next week?" Maddie asked, coming over and nudging me.

"Oh yeah. Can't wait." I rolled my eyes to show that I was sarcastic. I never really got all that excited for a game until about ten minutes before it started. Then I started to make up scenarios in my head to get myself pumped, and I would get way into the warm-up music.

"Well you're going with Maddie tonight, right?" Mom verified, but she didn't wait for me to answer before turning to Iggy. "And you're going to that party?" Iggy nodded. "Just don't drink. And don't ride in a car with somebody drunk, even if they're not driving. They could distract the driver and then -"

"Mom, I know," Iggy interjected. He almost blushed. I knew he had a little bit of a crush on Maddie. Well, not really a crush since it's high school. Basically he thought Maddie was hot. Which always made it awkward.

"Well we'll see you girls later," Mom said. "Have fun. But not too much!" She winked at me, and then she and Iggy left.

"Let's go see if Lonn's here," I suggested. "My hip feels funky."

"But your ankle's fine? I swear Max, as soon as one injury is halfway healed you get another." Maddie rolled her eyes, but she linked arms with me and we set off to Lonn's office.

I figured he'd be there, because he always stayed at least half an hour after any athletic event, since he was the athletic director and it was his job to help out if any athlete had an injury. I'd become pretty good friends with Lonn in the four years of my high school career. When I was a freshman I tore my ACL and was out for the last half of the season. Sophomore year I broke my nose in practice (it was still a little crooked, but only from a certain angle and in certain lighting) and had to wear a ridiculous mask for the whole season. Last year was good until I was shoved at the last game and got a concussion in the last ten seconds of the fourth quarter. This year so far I only had a sprained ankle, but my hip really was feeling weird.

"Lonn?" I asked, sticking my head in the door.

"What is it now, Max?" he sighed.

"My hip feels off."

"Which one?" Lonn asked as he patted one of the padded bed type things. I hopped up onto it and pointed to my left hip. "Where at?" I made a small line from my upper thigh to the outside of my hip. "Tell me if this hurts." Lonn applied pressure to my hip in random places.

"Nope. It only hurts when I walk on it. It felt like something pulled on my three-point shot, and jumps after that hurt."

"That's what it felt like, a pulled muscle." Lonn nodded.

"In her _hip_?" Maddie's eyes widened from the chair she was in. She'd never gotten an injury. Well, a bloody nose junior year, but that wasn't even basketball-related. That was when she was overly protective of her boyfriends and she thought she could beat up a flirty freshman girl who ended up having a father who'd boxed in high school.

"Yep." Lonn leaned back.

"Well can I play on it in Districts?"

"Well with your description I'd say it's grade II, which means it'll take at least two weeks to heal. It won't get any worse, though. So you can play if you can handle the pain. You'd have limited movement though, so I'd suggest stretching before Districts."

"Sounds good. Thanks, Doc." I winked and hopped down, reaching for my toes and proving that I would stretch.

"Adios, Lonn," called Maddie as we left.

We got into her car (we were leaving mine in the parking lot and she would drop me off to get it tomorrow morning) and blasted the air, despite the fact that it was in the low forties. We were still sweating.

"So where to? Taco Bell or Mickey D's?"

"Dumb question," I replied.

"True." Maddie started to drive toward Taco Bell while I fiddled with her iPod, going through her songs. I finally settled on "Best Love Song" by T-Pain **(my new fave song!) **and set her iPod down, plugging it into the car sterio and blasting it.

"'Turn up the bass,'" I sang loudly, "'turn up the treble -'"

"Shhhhhh!" Maddie commanded as we pulled into the Taco Bell drive-thru. When they were ready, she said, "I want the number four with a Sprite. And..." Maddie looked at me, squinting her eyes as she tried to recall what I always got. "And a hard-shell taco with just lettuce, tomato, and sour cream. With a Dr. Pepper."

"Erm...no meat on that hard-shell taco?" verified the guy's voice. He sounded confused. Maddie and I giggled.

"That's right."

"O...kay. That'll be seven sixty-two."

"Okey doke."

After we got our food we headed over to Maddie's place. Her parents were out of town for the week, so we had her whole giant house to ourselves. And her college brother Dylan and a few of his friends were hanging out in the basement, I think.

"We should go to the basement and do karaoke!" Maddie cried as soon as she finished her food. I threw away my wrapper and took one last giant drink of my Dr. Pepper before throwing that away too.

"No. You know I hate your brother. And besides, I want to at least get to bed by midnight since there's school."

"Ugh, you're no fun. Whoever wakes up earliest tomorrow gets to shower," Maddie reminded me. She threw on some shorts and a clean T-shirt, as did I, and then she fell back onto her bed.

Secretly I set my alarm on my phone for five minutes before hers went off. No way was I not showering before school tomorrow.

Then I made a makeshift bed on the floor of Maddie's room and fell instantly asleep.

* * *

**Yeah, yeah, it's a filler, so what? I needed to get Max's pulled muscle there before I did a chapter on Districts. And I was going to have her run into Fang again in this chapter, but I figured that'd be a little unrealistic if they ran into each other twice in the same night. So.**

**Somebody reviewed last chapter and corrected some of my...not-correct basketball stuff. I don't remember exactly who because I don't have my reviews pulled up. But I will go ahead and apologize right now to anybody who I may offend with my...not-so-great basketball knowledge. I'll try to get things right.**

**Review, por favor! (:**


	4. Chapter 4

**Max**

The week of Districts was starting, and it was just as confusing as last year. Girls played Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and guys played Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday.

And my hip hurt like hell. I'd been doing what Lonn had said and had stretched every night and I'd been practicing shots so that I wouldn't get too surprised if it started to hurt during a game.

The only thing I found positive about the day was that we left the school at 2:15 and got out of class at 2:00.

"Chicas de baloncesto," the Spanish teacher said, finally catching my attention. I wasn't exactly into the conversation we'd been having about soccer in Spain. "You are dismissed."

Maddie, Jaime, and I all got up, gathered our things, and booked it out of there.

"God, I hate Spanish," I muttered to Maddie when we got to our locker. I threw everything in, glad that we didn't have homework, and then we headed to the locker room where all our stuff for the game was.

We threw on our uniforms - the old ones, that were white with black letters outlined in gold - and I put on some baggy black sweats and my softball sweatshirt over it. I threw my hair into a sloppy ponytail, ripped a piece of tape off the roll in the side of my bag, and slapped it on top of my head.

"Girls, get to the bus _now_," Jeb called from outside the locker room doors. A lot of the girls took their time in the locker room, which drove him insane. But finally we all got our things ready, and we were on the bus and headed to the first round of Districts.

**XxX**

For the first round we were playing the Lawson Hornets. Their school was about two hours away in a bigger city. As a matter of fact, they had two gyms. For what, don't ask me.

We got there about ten minutes earlier than we'd needed, so we dropped our stuff on the bleachers and watched the game that was going on. Ours started half an hour after theirs, so we would have fifteen minutes to warm up after.

"Max," hissed Maddie, "is _that _who we're playing?" She pointed across the gym to the corner of the opposite bleachers.

A group of about twenty or so girls (I don't know why they needed so many) were hanging out there. They were very racially diverse, which was weird for us because in our town we had about fifteen Mexican families and very few African American families. These girls were _huge_. They all looked incredibly tall. They were all probably about as tall as me or taller, but they didn't quite look it because of their frickin' _muscle_. I had muscle, but it was long and lean. These girls could pass as bodybuilders. Their uniforms were black and red.

"That's them." I nodded to Maddie.

"Oh, God. They look scary."

"Don't worry about it," I reminded her. "Basketball is about skill level, not size." Which wasn't entirely true. Height could help immensely, but our school had once had a player that was 5'1''.

The game we were watching ended, one team twelve points in front of the other.

"Girls," Jeb called, "come get your warm ups on."

In the locker room nobody talked about if they were nervous or excited. It was fairly quiet, just the sound of zippers of bags and the silky fabric of our warm up tops meeting our game tops.

I was starting to feel pressure as game time got nearer and nearer. It wasn't like I had butterflies flying around, but the nerves were there. The other girls bustled around, hopping up and down or rummaging through their bags to focus on something but nerves. I was the weirdo, they always said. I sat on the bench with my elbows on my knees, just fingering the trim around the old shorts and adjusting the laces on my black high top basketball shoes every so often. It was how I kept myself calm.

Finally we were released to the gym to warm up. They had a song I didn't know blaring loudly and, since Districts were held at the Hornets' school, they got the big cool entrance. But when we jogged out, our student section (which had a surprisingly large turnout for a game so far away) clapped. They were all sitting, though.

Our student section was sneaky. They would let the other student section stand and cheer and chant and laugh while they sat in silence. But generally we got a three pointer within the first two minutes, and they would jump up and scream loudly, which would have the other team's fans in awe.

We warmed up and I was a little bit off. Shots were fine, I just missed a few more than usual. But the running drills killed my hip. I managed to keep Jeb from noticing though. He would pull me out as soon as he knew I was in pain.

After we were warmed up we went back to the locker room, took off our warm ups, and went back to the gym.

They had a local singing group - which consisted of five elderly men - sing the national anthem while everybody stood. They were surprisingly good. We went through the chat with Jeb, did our little chant, and then the game began.

I got the jump ball to Lindsey, who passed it immediately over to Casey. Casey didn't have a clear shot, so she threw the basketball to Jaime. But some girl from the other team swatted the ball to somebody on her team.

Their student section started in an immediate chant of, "You got swatted!" _Clap clap clapclapclap._

The Hornets got a two-pointer, and their student section exploded.

I got the ball and passed it off to Maddie. We managed to get the other girls blocked so Maddie could go for a three-pointer. She went for it and, after a very dramatic second or two of the ball spinning on the rim, it sunk through the net.

That was when our student section jumped up and screamed, and that was when the game _really _started.

**Fang**

With red war paint under one eye and white war paint under the other, I walked into Lawson High School. It was Districts week and, although I had a lot of homework to do, I didn't stay home to do it. Even though I knew our girls weren't going to make it to State (hell, we'd be lucky to make it to Sectionals) I was ditching my homework for it. I wouldn't be doing much homework the rest of this week either. I played tomorrow, Thursday, and Saturday.

It was just past eight o'clock and the game before ours had just a few minutes left in the fourth quarter. The Lawson girls (who were huge, buff, and intimidating even to me) were four points behind the Nixon Eagles.

I automatically started looking for the girl from the concession stand last week. Her name... There was an _m _in it. And an _x_. I couldn't remember.

But I did find her. And she looked just as great as I remembered.

Their game ended with Nixon as the winners.

Have you ever noticed how, after a basketball game at Districts, everything goes _up_? Lawson's coach jumped up with a furious expression, the Nixon girls jumped up excitedly, everybody in the bleachers stood up to leave, and the cheerleaders were throwing each other up to warm up their stunts.

"Hey, man," I said, nudging Vince, "I'm going to the concession stand."

"Whatever."

I stood up and jogged down the bleachers. As I walked down the hall I was counting my money, not paying any attention to where I was walking. And then I ran into a girl. I didn't budge, but she started to fall. With reaction time only a basketball player could have, I dropped my wallet and grabbed the girl's upper arms, jerking her up so that she regained her footing.

"Um, thanks," I heard a somewhat familiar voice say as I grabbed my wallet and the few dollar bills that'd fallen out of it.

"No problem." Then I looked up and saw who I was talking to. The girl from the concession stand last week. Max.

She grinned. "Oh hi, Fang. Didn't realize that was you."

"Hey, Max," I said, forcing myself to stay nonchalant. "I've got to go before the game starts, but I'll see you Wednesday or Friday, depending on how things go."

"Alrighty. See you soon." Max smiled again and I walked off.

It wasn't until _after _the game and _after _Max had left that I realized my driver's license was gone. Shit. I probably dropped it when I dropped my wallet. Damn, I hoped Max had it. I'd have to get in touch with her somehow to get that back.

_Wow, _I thought, _is that lucky or what?_

* * *

**So I forgot to clarify something earlier. Iggy is _not _blind. In case you didn't realize that.**

**Anyway.**

**I figured out today that I'm moving (I HATE YOU, MOM AND DAD!). I don't know when, but I'll just update till I do. So while we're packing and stuff there might not be a lot of updates. I don't know if we're moving in a week or in a few months. But I'll keep you updated.**

**Review, please!**


	5. Author's Note:::Sorry:::Important:::Read

**Sorry, guys, but this isn't an update. I just wanted to fill everybody in on the "moving" situation. So I'll just use the five W's to explain.**

**Who: My family.**

**What: We're moving.**

**When: June 1st.**

**Where: Georgia.**

**Why: My dad's job is relocating him.**

**So there's the general gist of it. Updates will continue, but they will become less frequent, for a few reasons. Here's the reasons:**

**1. Cheer. After cheering at my one gym since I was five, I've kind of always had a spot. But there's only one team I really want to be on in the area we're moving, and I'll have to try out. So basically I'm going to be practicing out the wazoo, trying to get my tumbling and stunting really good so I'll get a spot. Luckily my current gym is helping me work on all that.**

**2. Packing. Obviously, if I'm going to be spending the last half of May packing my room up, things will be unorganized and hectic. I'll try to keep my laptop out of the mess and update as much as I can, but I will obviously be busy.**

**So there you go. It shouldn't be too major until about halfway through May, when we start to pack. I'll still be able to update with school and extra hours at the gym, just not as frequently. But when we start to pack there could be a few weeks between updates. So, sorry.**

**Anyways, now everybody's filled in on the situation. Again, none of this will affect the story for a little while. **

**Thanks!**


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm attempting to make chapters longer. Tell me if it's working or if I'm just trying too hard. :) Lots of POV changes this chapter, so sorry about that.**

* * *

**Max**

"Mickey D's?" called Jeb, his voice breaking into my concentration. I slapped Fang's license into my sweatshirt pocket, thinking I'd been caught. But when I looked up Jeb was just making sure all the basketball girls were okay with McDonald's.

"Yeah," everybody echoed. I dug out my cash, still able to feel the card in my pocket.

I felt guilty. It probably wasn't right that I'd found his license after he left and kept it. I mean, he was just in the gym. Would it have been so bad to walk into my rival school's student section to return a driver's license? Okay, yeah, that would've been bad, but still. What if he got pulled over for something and didn't have his license? What if he got thrown in jail because he didn't have it.

_Max, chill, _I told myself. _You're overthinking this._

The bus stopped and, when it did, I stuck the license into my bag. I didn't want to carry it around with me. I should've just given it back to him. Now I'd have to go to his house to return it.

I sighed and got off the bus. Most of the girls were groggy because they'd been sleeping, but I was wide awake.

We formed a long line to the counter, me somewhere in the middle by Maddie.

"How's your hip?" Maddie asked. I shrugged.

"It hurt a little during the game, but it's fine now," I told her. And it was. As a matter of fact, I hadn't even thought of my hip since the game ended.

"Can I help you?" asked a short little dude when I got to the front. I saw him eyeing my tape, and I didn't care.

"Yeah. I want the ten piece chicken nuggets. The meal. And a soda. Please."

The guy, seemingly surprised by my large order, put this all in. "That'll be six forty-seven."

"Here ya go." I gave him a ten, got my change, gave my name, and went to wait while the rest of the girls ordered and they cooked up my food.

While standing there, I decided that I'd have to return Fang's license plate _eventually_. No matter how awkward or stalkerish it would seem to him. But hey, he'd have to appreciate that I would give it back, right? I'd take it tomorrow. Or if he came to the girls' games on Wednesday. Which, if he knew I had his license, he probably would. So it was decided. I would just take the license with me to the Wednesday game and give it to him then. If he wasn't there, he'd have to wait till the weekend.

"Max," called somebody, and I went and got my food. I filled up my cup with a Suicide (a mix of all the sodas, in case you didn't know, which you should) and headed back out to the bus.

Maybe I'd even see Fang at the game tomorrow. If I decided to go.

Not that I was that desperate to see Fang anyway.

**Fang**

"Fang?" Mrs. Aarons, my trigonometry teacher, stood in front of my desk with an expectant look on her face.

"Yes, Mrs. Aarons?" I said with sarcasm dripping from my voice. My class snickered.

"Where is your homework assignment?"

"Oh, that?" I pretended to think for a moment. "I went to cheer on our basketball girls last night, and so I wasn't able to finish my homework. I apologize."

Mrs. Aarons looked at me with absolutely no expression. "Lunch detention today," she finally said. "You can work on your assignment and turn it in tomorrow for half credit." She turned to go back to the board to teach.

Jon shook his head at me from across the room, grinning. Because he'd gone to the game too and, although he probably didn't get a great grade, he'd done his homework to turn in on time. I shrugged in reply.

When the bell rang I got up and left and went to lunch, despite the fact that I was supposed to stay in Mrs. Aarons's room.

**XxX**

"...do what we've done in practice," Coach finished. He clapped his hands, and we all took off the tops we'd warmed up in, so that we were in the simple white uniform with red lettering. "Fang."

"Yeah, Coach?"

"C'mere."

"What's up, Coach?" I asked, stepping onto the side of the locker room with him. I noticed, somewhat nervously, that Coach had pulled me away so that none of my teammates could hear what he was going to say.

"I got another email from Mrs. Aarons. She says you skipped out on a lunch detention. Again. Next time, Walker, and I'm pulling you out of the game. Understand?"

"Yes, Coach, I understand." I ducked my head until he left, and reached down and adjusted my shoe laces.

I decided to not fret on this. I'd just get my homework done and not skip out on lunch detentions. Besides, it was a hollow threat, just to scare me. Coach and I both knew the team wouldn't make it far without me.

Waiting for us to be released out to the court (we were playing Kirksville), I sat down on the bench. The other guys were doing push ups or stretching their arms, and I was just sitting there, mentally preparing myself like I always did. **(Remind you of anyone?)**

Not long after I felt ready, we were called out for the game to start.

**Max**

"Why the hell are we here?" Maddie asked in a whiney voice. "Our boys' don't start for another hour _at least_."

"Just...don't complain. I told you I needed to return this guy's license." I held up Fang's driver's license for proof.

"We could've waited till _after _the game! Jesus, Max, I could've finished my trig homework. Why do we have to watch this Nicholas dude play, anyway?"

"Just because," I answered. I grabbed Maddie's arm and pulled her up to the bleachers to take a seat at the very top above the Bishop student section.

I knew Bishop pretty much hated Nixon's guts (and not just because of how they'd behaved at our game last week), so for tonight I'd settled on some jean shorts and a black North Face jacket. I had on my black and gold Nike Air Max shoes too, just because I didn't want to look completely unsupportive when our game started. Plus I liked the fact that they were called Air _Max_.

The Bishop Panthers came out of the locker room, and Fang was in the front next to a much shorter guy and right behind the coach. They talked for a few minutes, then stood in a line and watched the flag as the national anthem played. But they didn't hold hands or anything like us girls, obviously.

When everybody got in their place for the jump ball I wasn't surprised Fang was the jumper for his team. He had to be _at least _six foot three. At least.

He got the ball (obviously) to one of his teammates, and so the game began.

**XxX**

"Stay here," I told Maddie when the game was over. Bishop had won twenty to forty-nine. Yeah. Impressive, I know. Not that I'd admit that to anybody that goes to Bishop.

"What? I want to come!"

"I'm just gonna give Fang his license and I'll be right back. Just hang out with our student section," I told her. I gestured down, where Bishop students were leaving and ours were coming in to their seats. I noticed a whole lot of shoves and dirty looks.

"Uhhhhhhh. Fine. Whatever, ditch me, I don't care," Maddie said, waving her hand and standing up. But I knew she was kidding.

I bounded down the bleachers and out to the hallway. As I did it I pulled my hair up into its usual sloppy ponytail, minus the tape. I'd had my hair down for once today (not to impress Fang or anything...), but I just wasn't a hair-down kind of girl.

Out in the hall, I stood there for a while, waiting for Fang in the sea of Bishop students. I fingered the license, which was in my jacket pocket. Feeling out of place in all the red and white, I looked down at my shoes, just standing and waiting.

**Fang**

I came out of the locker room with my bag, my usual cocky grin on my face. I was surprised, and pleased, to see Max standing there, looking at the floor.

"Fancy seeing you here," I muttered as I approached her. She looked up, her messy blonde ponytail flipping.

"Oh. Uh, yeah. I accidentally kept your license the other day," she said. Her voice was kind of smug, and also kind of embarrassed. It was cute.

And yes. I, Nicholas "Fang" Walker, just said _cute _instead of _hot_. What was going on with me.

"Oh. Thanks." I took the license from her outstretched hand, and when my hand brushed hers, she jerked back, like I'd shocked her. Which maybe I did. But it kind of felt like she shocked me too.

"Well. Nice game." Max nodded as she said this, and I was surprised she'd watched.

"Thanks." I grinned.

"Well..."

"Do you want to...go out sometime?" I asked. I don't know what made me say it. It was like something came over me and made me ask it. I don't know what pushed me to do it. If it was the fact that she was confident and pretty without makeup, or that little signature hair flip she had, or if it was the slight blush on her cheeks. Usually I asked girls on dates because they were hot. Max... Max and I clicked. That's my best explanation.

Max blushed again. "Um. Yeah, sure. Sounds like fun."

"Okay." I turned to go, but Max grabbed my arm, causing another mini-electrocution for us both. But she didn't let go, and the shock turned into little courses of electricity running up and down my arm. It was ridiculously cliche.

"Your phone number," Max prompted. She took a pink Sharpie out of her pocket and gave it to me, pulling up her sleeve and giving me her arm.

I wrote my number on the bottom of her arm, where her skin was pale and I could see the blue veins. I could tell she wasn't one of those girls who spent her Saturday evenings sitting in tanning beds, or the summertime lying on those chairs around the pool. She struck me as the...well,_ fun _type of girl.

"Write yours now," I said, and held my arm out. I knew I was going to get so much shit from my friends about having a phone number on my arm in pink Sharpie, but at the moment I didn't care. I wanted Max's phone number, because I didn't want her to be those girls I just flirted with whenever I happened to run into them.

"I'll see you later," Max said, and she didn't blush when she said it.

"Yeah."

About twenty minutes later, just about halfway back to Bishop, my phone buzzed with a text. A text from Max, who I'd already put into my Caller I.D.

_Saturday? _it said. Nothing else. I smirked

_Def saturday. _

* * *

**So there's my Easter gift to you. Sorry it's not as good as a chocolate bunny or anything. :/**

**Anyway, head over to my profile, because I gave it a whole makeover! And don't forget to review, por favor! Let's go for...twenty-five? I didn't count last chapter's so I don't know what to aim for... Just review, please!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Max**

We were on the bus to Lawson for the second game of Districts when Maddie finally noticed. She was sitting back in her seat, eating sour Gummy Worms, when suddenly I found her leaning forward and looking over my shoulder.

"What?" I asked, trying to nonchalantly put my phone screen-down in my lap. I looked up to see Maddie grinning mischeviously, and for a moment she looked exactly like her little brother, who I'd had to pick up after Maddie crashed her car last year.

"Who's Fang?" she asked in a dorky voice. She still stayed quiet, though, which I appreciated. I sighed. I knew Maddie didn't take no for an answer. Never had, never would.

"Remember the Nicholas guy I had to return the license to yesterday?" I asked.

"The hot one you didn't introduce me to?" Maddie verified. "Then yes. I remember him."

"That's Fang. We're kinda sorta talking." I looked down, not wanting Maddie to see my face.

"But Max!" she cried suddenly, still quiet enough that nobody looked over at us. "He goes to Bishop. You and I both know how much of a fail that would be." She stopped, trying to think of something to compare it to. "It'd be almost as bad as-"

My phone rang, interrupting her, and I was relieved. Until I saw that it was Tyler. Because I hadn't spoken to Tyler since Fang and I had set a time and place for our maybe-date, and because, despite the fact that Tyler and I were _split_, we'd always been kind of flirty, even after the breakup.

"Hello?" I finally answered.

"Hey, Max," Tyler said. I could hear his annoyingly loud piece-of-crap truck in the background. "I just wanted to let you know I'd be at your game tonight."

"What?" I replied. It sounded kind of like a croak. "Why?"

"'Cause I haven't seen you play since last year's Sectionals. I'll see you there, okay?" And then he hung up.

Ooooooooh, crap.

**XxX**

"Don't worry about it, Max," said Maddie while we were standing in the locker room. I'd explained the whole situation to her, and she knew I was anxious. Possibly because I was messing with my tape and hopping up and down and just flat-out fidgeting way more than I usually do.

"I'm not," I lied.

"Girls," Jeb called from outside the locker room, "warm ups on. You can go out now."

My stomach dropped as we pulled the warm ups on over the new "badass" uniforms and lined up by the door.

We ran out and kept my eyes on the ball rack across the gym. I didn't want to see either of them, not in the same setting.

Even though, when it came down to what I knew about Tyler, Fang would always be the one I picked. No matter what he'd done or his mistakes. Tyler just had to have far more.

**Fang**

I'm not even gonna get started on how _awkward _this situation was for me. Okay, I lied. I am.

Max's team was playing my school's team and, although I'd only known her for a few days, I didn't want to ruin anything with Max by being associated with my screaming, rowdy student section. But I also didn't want to just barge into their student section and be called a traitor by mine.

So you see my dilemma. Oh, you've gotta love how seriously everybody takes high school rivalries.

Finally I settled on just leaning against the wall by the door, that way I had a clear view of the game, and nobody would be unhappy with who I was supporting.

The teams came out and I found Max, who kept her gaze locked on the ball rack. She was always so serious during a game, sometimes it was intimidating.

I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall, watching the teams warm up. I noticed that Max shot weird. Usually guys have more power in just their arms, so they could just straighten their arms. Girls usually had to hop a little to get that extra power. But Max, like, _jumped_. It was weird, but whatever works, I guess...

Both teams went back to remove their warm ups, and then they did the national anthem and all that, and then they got lined up for the jump ball.

Max was facing me, but definitely not looking at me. She was in position, ready for the jump ball, and her eyes watched the ball hungrily, even though the ref still had it firmly in his grasp. As the ref got ready she popped her knuckles, and the game started.

I knew the girl on our team who was going for the jump ball. She was a redhead named Brigid, who I'd hooked up with the summer before junior year. She was a total bitch, and I'd never seen her miss a jump ball. Of course, I found it hard to imagine Max missing a jump ball too. So it was pretty silent in the gym when the ref threw the ball up.

Brigid got the ball over to K.T. (her name was Katee, but she liked to seem cool by just using two letters to spell it), who started off at a steady jog toward the hoop at the opposite end of the court. She, being a ball hog, shoved right through a pack of Nixon girls and went for the shot. It bounced off the rim and two quick hands grabbed it, a dark-haired Nixon girl.

"Here, here!" I heard Max call, jogging backward and about at the half court area. The dark-haired girl threw it to her, and then Max was sprinting toward the hoop, not half-assing it. She jumped up and sunk the ball through the net in what could almost be called a dunk, but she didn't hold on to the rim.

I tried to get her attention, to mouth, "Good shot," or something, but she just used her arm to wipe her forehead and accepted a shoulder-pat from another girl on the team.

She wasn't going to lose any focus.

**XxX**

Nixon won with a buzzer beater. An impossible, amazing, impressive buzzer beater.

There were seven seconds left and the score was tied, and Max was running toward the hoop with the ball, her face red and sweaty. Brigid bumped into Max's side in a desperate attempt to get the ball, and Max went down with Brigid right behind her. Both their hands scrambled for the ball, but a Nixon girl got it and, in the last two seconds, sent the ball through the hoop.

Damn Brigid. She'd never been a fair player. Not that I could really say much better for myself, but still. Girls' basketball was so freakin' _agressive_. Guys just depended on shots and stuff, but girls were on the floor practically wrestling for the ball about three fourths of the time.

My school's team left the court upset, Nixon's student section chanting, "Na na na na, na na na na, hey hey hey, goodbye." I guess it was routine.

A few Nixon girls helped Max up, and I noticed she winced when she put weight on her left leg. I hoped her ankle wasn't hurt or anything. I'd never gotten seriously hurt in basketball, but judging from what Max had told me over texts, she was unlucky when it came to injuries.

Max swiped her ponytail to the side, adjusting to her sore leg, and her eyes skimmed the bleachers. She finally saw me by the door, and half-grinned at me. I gave her a thumbs up.

"Hey, Fang," somebody said, and I looked away from Max to see Brigid in front of me.

"Hi," I replied, hoping she'd just go away. But of course she didn't. Ever since that stupid little hookup junior year, she wouldn't leave me the hell alone.

"So what're you doing Saturday?" she asked.

"I've got a game," I said. Not a lie, technically.

"I was talking about _after _the game," Brigid explained, smiling at me flirtatiously.

And then, thank the Lord, her coach hollered for her to go back. I said goodbye, thankful that she couldn't say no to her coach. Even though the best they'd be doing at Districts was third, depending on their game Friday.

Max's team would take either first, which would get them through to Sectionals, or second.

I waited near the locker room for Max to come out, and by the time she did most of my friends were gone. Which was good. I'd gotten enough shit for the pink Sharpie yesterday, and I didn't need them to know that it was from a Nixon girl.

"Nice game," I told Max when she came out, wearing baggy black sweats and a Nixon hoodie. I was surprised when she hugged me. It was just a short little hug, but it definitely still caught me off guard.

"Thanks."

"Did you hurt your leg?" I asked, suddenly remembering her wince when she put weight on her leg. I furrowed my eyebrows, and Max blushed.

"No, it's fine. I just pulled a muscle in my hip, but it's nothing major."

"In your _hip_? Is that even possible?"

"I guess so," Max laughed.

"Maxie girl," called one of the Nixon girls by the door. She was short with curly black hair, and I guessed this was the best friend Max had told me about. Maddie.

"Coming," Max called. She looked back to me apologetically. "I've gotta go."

"Will I see you at my game tomorrow?" I asked. She told me that her little brother played varsity ball, so I figured she'd be coming to all the guys' games this week too.

"Not tomorrow, nope. I've got a lot of homework to catch up on, and a big test to study for. But I'll see you Friday?"

"I'll be there," I assured her.

"Okay." Max smiled the tiniest bit, gave me another little hug, and jogged outside to catch the bus.

She was gorgeous. And amazing at basketball. And a flat-out great girl.

But what would my friends say?

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**Hmm...not my best chapter. But oh well. Reviews? Pretty please with pickles on top?**

**I'm going to go set up a poll right now to vote on what story I should start after I finish up this one. I know it'll be a _long _time before I need to worry about that, but I want you guys to have plenty of time to vote, plus I don't want to forget my ideas. So check that out and vote, please! Everything will be on my profile. :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Okay, peeps, I know my basketball knowledge isn't 100%, but I'm still trying. I tried to get all the basketball stuff straight with the helpful corrections, so basketball people, please tell me if what I'm doing is right. _After _the second chapter, because I know that's all screwed up. Enjoy, my precious readers!**

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**Max**

The bus ride home was short and quick, thanks to the stop at Mickey D's **(that's for you, ISuckAtUsernames!)**. I split a fifty piece with Maddie, and we left about twenty leftovers. What? We would work it off in advanced fitness, plus there were games all week. Okay, just one more for us, but still.

We pulled into the parking lot of the high school at about eleven o'clock, and I was glad I'd finished my homework on the ride there. Otherwise I would've had to stay up till practically midnight. I wasn't the type of person who just didn't do her homework. Every once in a while I'd skip out on the first half of art class to hang out in the government classroom, since Mr. James was my favorite teacher, but the art teacher didn't mind since I always finished my projects.

While we were all stretching and waking ourselves up, Jeb stood up at the front of the bus. "Alright, girls, good game tonight. Tomorrow we'll just have a real short practice from three-fifteen to five-fifteen so you can still go to the boy's game. Get a good night's rest."

I slung my backpack over one shoulder, put my basketball bag over the other, and shuffled down the aisle and to the door. I got outside and it was more chilly than I'd expected. All I had on was my basketball shorts and a hoodie, so the cool air nipped at my bare legs.

I saw Mom's car at the back of the lot and jogged toward it, keeping my eyes down on the cement so that I couldn't trip over any of the ridiculously huge cracks. I threw my bags into the back seat, and got into the front, automatically cupping my hands over the warm vent. "Hey, Mom."

"Hey, sweetheart," said a man's voice in a false high tone. I looked over to see Dylan, my twenty-two-year-old brother who, last I knew, was overseas with the war.

"Dylan!" I reached my arms over and locked them around his neck. I noted that he still had the full-camo suit on, although he'd taken off the hat and put it on the armrest. He must've come straight from the airport to pick me up. "What're you doing back?"

"I'm on leave, and Mom picked me up. She had me drop her off and come pick you up."

"How long are you here?" I stammered, finally releasing my big brother from the hug.

"Until they call me back." Dylan put the car back into drive and said, "So how's Districts going?"

"Good. Finals are Friday, and if we win that we go to Sectionals." I started to pick at my nails, which was a habit I really, _really _needed to stop.

We drove in silence for a few minutes with Dylan's iPod blaring some ridiculous rap song. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat, and I heard him humming along with it. I glanced over at him.

I've never been allowed to know where my brother was stationed, and generally I would just tell myself not to think about him to stop myself worrying. I would go see movies with friends - the most recent being _Dear John _- and I would imagine the worst possible places with Dylan in them.

"So," Dylan said finally, breaking my from my thoughts. "Who's this fellow Maddie texted me about?"

"Oh, God. _Please _don't tell me you and Maddie are going to have another fling."

"It wasn't a fling, and don't change the subject, Max. Maddie texted me and said you were hugging some guy wearing a Bishop letter jacket."

I looked over at Dylan, shock and hurt probably clear in my eyes. Plus Dylan could just read me well. "Why does it matter that he goes to _Bishop_? That's all Maddie saw, all Tyler saw, and all you care about! What if I told you he was a nice guy? Huh? What would you say then?" I was out of breath at the end of my rant, and I felt guilty for freaking out on Dylan, who just got back and who I hadn't seen for almost a year.

Dylan sighed and took one hand from the steering wheel to rub his forehead awkwardly. He looked strange with the buzz cut. "What's his name? Just tell me his name at least. I've got some friends and they'll probably know him. I just want to...make sure he won't hurt you."

"Fine. His name's Nicholas Walker, but he goes by Fang." I shrugged, hoping Dylan would just let it drop. But that wasn't exactly his style.

Dylan stopped breathing and he tightened his grip on the wheel so much that the skin over his knuckles turned white. Like, paper white.

"What's the problem?" I asked expectantly, crossing my arms over my chest.

Dylan stopped the car in our long driveway and turned it off, but neither of us made a move to get out. I knew he wasn't finished talking, and he knew I wasn't finished arguing. But I didn't really get it myself. I didn't know Fang all that well myself, so why was I so keen on defending him?

"Even Iggy knows the deal with that guy. Everybody around knows the deal with him, except you, obviously."

"Tell me, Dylan, what _is _the deal?"

He shook his head and took the keys out, unlocking the doors. Somehow he made even these small movements seem super angry. "Figure it out yourself, Max. Just be careful around that guy."

"Whatever, Dyl." I got out of the car and went inside.

Even though it was midnight and I just ached to collapse onto my bed, I jumped into the shower. I stood there for about five minutes, letting the steaming water relax my muscles. Finally I scrubbed myself clean. When I got out I threw on some baggy shorts that I suspected were Iggy's and had somehow made their way to my drawer, as well as a cutoff T-shirt.

I headed down to the kitchen and put a brownie (okay, two) on a paper plate, then fell back onto the couch to watch some TV. Mom was asleep, and I figured it would be on my conscience that I was eating in the living room.

"Hey."

"Holy..." I'd jumped at the voice and spilled some brownie crumbs on the couch. I looked over to see Dylan wearing some gray sweats. He was smiling at me, so I figured he was gonna leave me along about the whole boy thing.

"What's up?" Dylan fell onto the couch next to me and grabbed a piece of my brownie.

"Nothin'. So are these your Army Abs?" I asked, punching him in the stomach. When I'd talked to him on the phone a few months ago he said he was getting some muscle, and he named them the Army Abs. I would never let him live it down.

"Yup. Are you going to Ig's game tomorrow?"

"Nah. I've got a paper in Dare's class that I need to get done. But you should come to my game Friday."

"I plan on it," Dylan muttered. He turned off the TV so that the only light was the dim lamp. "You do realize that if the boys win their game tomorrow they'll play Bishop Saturday? It'll be your brother versus your boyfriend. Crazy stuff..."

"He's not my boyfriend, Dylan!" I cried, but it was playful. I thwacked him with one of Mom's decorative pillows.

"Okay, okay. Just making sure you knew's all."

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**Hmm. Not the best. You guys are going to look at this author's note and say, "Hell, no, this is too long to read!" But just do it. Please.**

**First of all, I've only gotten five votes on the poll so far. If you're taking the time to read this, please go vote. I'd like to get as many opinions as possible so everybody will be happy.**

**Secondly, guess what? Yesterday at practice we did tons of kick double baskets, and I did all of them without hurting anybody! Yay! And I can finally double down from my scorpion cleanly. I'm getting pretty psyched.**

**And finally, who here watches _The Vampire Diaries_****? If any of you do, how freaking _pissed _were you at the cliffie they left us with this Thursday? Cause I was pretty freakin' pissed.**

**Anywho, review please! (:**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks for the great reviews last chapter, guys! That earned you a Fang POV. ;) Now I've just got a few shoutouts. First to ISuckAtUsernames****, because your reviews crack me up, and they're always fun to read! And then PurpleTea88, I always look forward to reading your reviews as well. Probably because they say more than just "update soon!" And a quick reply to maxridelover123, it took me _forever _to get my double down. But once you've got it it's really easy to do it out of other stunts. Read on! :)**

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**Fang**

Now my school has a lot of...crazy kids. During football season there were two girls that got arrested for MIPs, and practically the whole football team was busted for some muscle-building drug. Not steroids, but I don't quite remember what.

And I can't honestly say that I haven't drank, smoked, done drugs. But seriously, what teenager hasn't? And it's not like I'm the guy that smokes pot in the parking lot and never showers because he's always high. Far from it, I'm glad to say.

But my point is, our girls lost the game. And it was Wednesday. But you know what? That doesn't stop us from throwing a huge party, just for the hell of it! We're teenagers. It's in our blood.

I pulled up to Joe's house, where tons of cars were parked in the driveway and along the street. He lived in an average sized house, and it was crammed all the way to the rooftop. But being popular has its perks; everybody stepped out of the way for me when I got there.

"Fang!" I heard somebody cry, and there was Brigid. Again.

I sighed.

"Wanna come get a drink with me?" she purred, her green eyes becoming slits. Wow, I just described a cat. Which I guess Brigid is relatable to.

"You know I don't do iced tea," I told her, and I stepped around her, heading to the kitchen. I was focused on finding either a hot girl who didn't talk much, the beer, or one of my friends.

"Fang!" called another peppy voice, but I merely rolled my eyes at this one.

"Hey, Nudge," I said.

Joe's adopted sister, Nudge, was fourteen and a total girly girl. Basketball to her was for checking out guys, and Joe's little "get togethers" were always enjoyable for her too. It generally kept her from ratting him out for all these parties. Plus the girl really liked me. Not in _that _way, though. She'd grown out of it.

"I didn't know you were coming." Nudge wacked me on the shoulder with one of her slender dark hands, and she put her hands on her hips.

"What the hell are you _wearing_?" I asked, trying not to sound surprised. And failing.

Nudge was wearing strappy black heels that had her swaying side to side, short and torn jean shorts with a big sparkly button, and a spaghetti strap tank top.

Although I'd never show it, I wanted her out of there. Away from all the upperclassmen guys, who I suddenly noticed were looking at Nudge. In _that way_. And no. The girl was freakin' fourteen, in eighth grade. And I was like her big brother. No way in hell.

"You like?" Nudge asked, raising her brows and turning in a quick circle.

"I don't like," I said, using _the voice_. Nobody can sound meaner or colder than me when I'm trying. "Go put on some clothes.

Nudge held up a finger, which was freshly manicured. "Now, now," she said, putting on a bossy face. "Mom said that as long as a shirt covers cleavage and shorts cover...what they're supposed to, she's fine with it. So."

I crossed my arms over my chest and stood tall. I raised one eyebrow at her, waiting.

"Fine!" She sighed heavily and took off to her room to put on some clothes, almost falling down the stairs in her ridiculous heels.

I shook my head and finally made it to the kitchen, where I snatched a plastic red cup, filled it with beer, and set off to find somebody, anybody, to entertain me.

Sitting on the couch by Joe not long later, a short girl with dark hair caught my eye. She was across the living room, holding a beer bottle, and her eyes kept darting over to me. She would find me looking back and her eyes would flash quickly away, a deep red blush on her cheeks.

"Just go flirt with the chick already," Joe sighed, rubbing his temples. He didn't handle alcohol too well, and he'd already had two beers, quite a bit for him.

I got up and made my way across the room, putting on my little half-grin that girls seemed to love. "Hey," I finally said when I got to her.

"Hi," she said, not stuttering or anything like Max. Why was I comparing her to Max? Her friend disappeared, but only after a little sideways glance. "I'm Britney."

"Fang," I told her, and her eyes glinted a little. Girls usually liked how my name was kind of...scary. Of course, girls were attracted to the whole "bad boy" type thing. And doesn't the name Fang just scream "bad boy"?

Within half an hour I knew the girl's whole life story (not that I, you know, _remembered _it). And then it was time for her to go and, without making eye contact with me, she pulled out a pen and scribbled her phone number on my arm.

"Call me, Fang," she said, smirking, and then she was gone.

I couldn't help but feel a little shadow of guilt as I thought of Max.

**Max**

After Dylan went to bed I found myself carrying myself up the stairs and to Iggy's door.

"Ig?" I called quietly, tapping on it a few times. It took quite a few (louder) yells, and louder knocks to get him to finally open.

"What do you want?" he asked, rubbing his eyes. He was in only his boxers. Blech.

"I need to ask you something," I muttered, looking down. How pathetic was this? I was seventeen, a senior, with plenty of friends I could ask. But I chose to come to my little sophomore brother? What the hell was going on with me?

"Is it important?" Iggy whined.

"Yeah."

A few minutes later I was sitting at the bottom of Iggy's bed, and he was covered up with his hands folded on his stomach, looking at me expectantly and waiting for me to freaking spit out my question.

"You know about F-Nicholas? Nicholas Walker?" I stammered.

"Yeah, I know the guy. Total douche. Why?" Iggy's eyes suddenly became suspicious, as if he was thinking up all the worst possible possibilites. I could practically see hear his thoughts: _Did you sleep with him? Does he like you? Are you going to the same college?_

"What's the big...deal with him?" I finally asked, and I rephrased it to be more clear. "Why does everybody try to stay away from him?"

Iggy sat up and cleared his throat, as if getting ready for a long speech. "First of all, the guy's a prick. Thinks he's the coolest guy on earth. Not to mention the fact that he hangs out with some of those kids that get caught up in the illegal stuff. Drugs, I mean. Not stealing or anything. But it's really the _girls _that make him so notorious. Rumors are all over - not just at his school - that he's slept with tons of girls. He gets girls thinking they're his pride and joy, he sleeps with them, and then he never talks to them again. At least, that's what I've been told."

"Um. Thanks." I stood up and made my way to the door, putting my hand on the knob.

"Max?" Iggy said, his voice stopping me. "Why'd you ask me that?"

"No reason," I murmured, trying to be nonchalant.

"Bullshit. I know you won't tell me. But just...stay away from him. He's nothing but trouble. And he'll hurt you."

"Yeah. Thanks, Ig." I finally escaped.

I sat on the couch, thinking for a while. Dylan told me to stay away. Iggy told me to stay away. Two of my _brothers_, who've always been in with the guys and who've always been completely honest when helping me out with guys.

Damn. Why am I always drawn in with the douches?

* * *

**Hehe, yeah. There's Fang's big secret.**

**What do y'all think of the whole Osama bin Laden thing? And if you're a fan of his...don't even review.**

**But otherwise, please review! (:**


	10. Chapter 10

**So I learned from the reviews for last chapter that some of my readers have dirty minds. But that's okay, because I got a good laugh out of all those reviews!**

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**Fang**

Have you heard that song sung by Rebecca Black? The one that goes, "Friday, Friday, gotta get down on Friday..." The that is so annoying that if you go on YouTube and look it up it has more dislikes than likes? Okay, I take it you've gotten it by now.

That's basically how I was feeling when I woke up Friday morning.

We'd won the game yesterday, Thursday, and, although Max hadn't been there due to a buttload of homework, it'd been pretty fun. We'd dominated the other team, and we had been ahead by a total of twenty-two points. I got a three-point buzzer shot, which I must say would've been a lot more satisfying had we not been quite so far ahead.

Tonight I was going with a group of friends to Max's game. I'd texted her and asked if it would bug her if I sat with my (pretty unbehaved) student section, and she said she didn't mind. So I was decked out in my red and white tennis shoes, baggy white shorts, and long-sleeved red shirt that said "Bishop Basketball." When I got there Keira Marx was going to give everybody war paint under their eyes.

When I got there and started to walk over to my friends, I glanced at the Nixon student section. Since it was the girls' finals, the last game, which would determine whether or not they made it to Sectionals, they went all out. There were six people on the top standing up with black T-shirts. The one on the left had a big _M _in gold on it, and the rest of the shirts spelled out Maddie. Max's name was in the front. I noticed, with a fair amount of jealously, that it was spelled with all guys. A tall buff blonde guy, a tall thin blonde guy, and a guy with sandy hair.

"It's the Fangalator!" somebody screamed loudly and obnoxiously, and I looked over to see Joe jumping up and down at the top of the bleachers, pointing to me wildly. He looked slightly crazy for a second, with his hair spray painted white and a big red _I _on his bare chest. He and a few other guys were spelling "Bishop."

"Hey, man," I said, coming to stand next to him.

"So which one's Max?" Joe asked, gesturing to the Nixon girls coming out of the locker room for warm ups. I'd finally broken the news to my friends, and they'd taken it better than I'd expected. Sure they'd asked the usual questions. _Is she good in bed? Is she hot? Does she have a hot friend? _But for the most part they'd gotten over it.

"Right..." I searched for a second, then pointed at her while she was stretching in a circle with her team. "There."

"Damn, buddy," Joe said, clapping me on my shoulder, "nice choice."

"Shut up," I said quietly, but Joe knew the voice I was using. It was the voice that said, _Do not fuck with me about this._

Max caught my eye and half-waved, giving the smallest little grin, and then she was focused again. She stood up, snatched a ball, and threw a three-pointer. I didn't see if it went in or not, just went on with that half-grin that all girls loved. And even though Max was nothing like the girls I usually dated, I knew that even she wasn't immune to that. She scowled at me, knowing what I was doing, and flicked her ponytail toward me and turned the other way. But I saw a little smile flicker over her lips.

**XxX**

It happened about thirty seconds before third quarter ended.

Max had the ball and was just a foot or two from our student section, her back to us and slightly crouched as she searched for somebody to pass to. But some huge girl from the other team was standing an arm's length from Max, waving her arms and blocking every attempt Max made to pass.

You may be wondering why the Bishop student section is at a game between Nixon and Clarkville. Well, I know I said somewhere earlier that high school rivalries are taken _seriously_. Like, about as seriously as the president took the attack on Pearl Harbor. Yeah, Pearl Harbor seriously. My school, Bishop, hates Nixon with a burning passion. We do everything in our power to crush them at every sport, be it golf, football, or basketball. And so we - well, my student section - was here just to distract Nixon and try to keep them from making it to Sectionals.

Anyway. Max, just as our student section was starting a chant of, "Boring, boring...," finally realized she just had to take a chance. So she faked left and rounded the girl right, meanwhile throwing the ball to another girl on her team. The ball made it safely there, but Max's foot got caught on her blocker's ankle, and she went down. And down hard.

The girl with the ball didn't even go for a shot, because the coach, seeing Max go down and knowing how prone she was to injuries, was already calling a timeout. The ref blew a whistle, and everybody cleared the court except for Max and two other girls.

Max tried to stand up as soon as the ball was out of her hands, but as soon as she put pressure on her right leg it just crumpled. Her two teammates put their arms around Max's waist while she, looking pissed off for showing weakness, put her arms around her shoulders. Her friends helped as she hopped over to sit down.

While the game continued I watched Max over on the side. The coach was asking her things and prodding her right knee, pausing every so often to put an ice pack on it.

Needless to say, even without Max Nixon won.

**Max**

Needless to say, _my _celebration for being District Champs two years in a row wasn't all that exciting. Maddie and Lindsey helped me get up and we got in on the team's close huddle.

After a bunch of pictures, both with the team and the trophy and with Dylan, Iggy, and Tyler, who spelled out my name in the student section, we were getting ready to go.

There are some serious advantages to having a game on Friday. First off, no homework to have to worry about doing before or after. Secondly, the fact that Fang and I had pushed forward our almost-date to a simple little Sonic thing right after the game.

But what sucked about winning Districts is that I had to kill me knee to do it, and Jeb _really _wanted me to ride the bus back to the school so Lonn could check it out.

"I promise I'll go to the hospital tomorrow to get it looked out," I assured Jeb. Fang was waiting over by the vending machines, his hands in his pockets, just relaxedly watching everyone walk by, looking amazing without even trying. Do not repeat any of that.

"Max, you could've seriously injured your knee." Jeb kept anxiously looking down at my knee, where I had a fancy brace with ice inside keeping it from swelling more than it already had. He seriously didn't want me to have another injury in my basketball career, and _definitely _not one just two weeks before we were now sure for Sectionals.

I sighed deeply. "I know. I probably did. But seriously, I just want to ride home with somebody else. I promise I'll go to the doctor tomorrow and get my knee checked out. It doesn't even hurt that bad now that I have the brace." Lie, total lies, all of them. Except for the fact that I probably hurt my knee. Because I probably did. But Jeb didn't know who I was hanging with, I certainly didn't plan on going to the doctor, and, okay, it was throbbing like hell.

Jeb was quiet for a while, and finally said, "Yes." I don't know if he actually agreed or if the bus full of cheering girls anxious to get home was what made him do it. But he did, and that's all that matters. He turned and left quickly.

When I turned around I found Fang right behind me suddenly, that wicked half grin on his face.

"Nice war paint," I laughed, pointing to the red and white under his eyes.

"Thanks," he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Then, as if he'd done it a million times before, Fang grabbed my hand and held it as we walked outside to find his truck in the pretty much empty parking lot. "To Sonic?"

"Yeppers," I said casually. But honestly, the hand he was holding was flaming, and there were dozens of little tiny sparks flowing through my veins, up and down my arms.

When we got in the truck and Fang took his hand out of mine to start it, I wanted to automatically snatch his hand back, get back to that amazing feeling wherever he touched me even the slightest bit.

Once we got going again Fang casually held my hand again and, whenever we were out of street lights, I would close my eyes and try to capture this moment in my mind.

God, I was becoming a love-addicted teenager that belonged in some sappy story somewhere.

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**Hehe, funny. I almost made the last sentence, "...love-addicted teenager that belonged in some sappy story on some sappy website." But I didn't. Anywho, reviews por favor?**

**Packing starts tomorrow! :(**


	11. Chapter 11

**My room is naked! Like, no kidding, I don't have any pictures or _anything _on my wall, and I'm a picture kinda girl! It makes me sad. :(**

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**Max**

I thought that being alone with Fang would be awkward. But it was just like hanging out with one of my guy friends, going out to eat and talking sports.

"Are you a football fan?" Fang asked me as he took a big bite of his Sonic burger. Some ketchup splattered onto his wrapper, and a pickle fell out too.

"Not too much of one," I replied. I stuffed a few fries in my mouth, and I would be a liar if I said it was more attractive than the insides bulging out of Fang's hamburger. "I mean, I've dated more than one football player, but I've never really seen why girls just gush over the muscley type that just bonk heads for the hell of it."

Fang looked at me with a little tiny half-grin on his face, and I suddenly felt self-conscious. I fought off a blush and exhaled in a little laugh as I looked down at my limeade (which, just for the record, is the best thing you can get at Sonic).

"What?" I said, grinning as I looked up at Fang.

"Hm?" He sat up straighter, shaking his head a little to get his hair away from his eyes. "Nothing. You're just so opinionated."

"Is that a good thing?" I asked, furrowing my eyebrows, but keeping my smile.

"It's not a bad thing." Fang eyed me, and then he took the wrappers from both of our food, bundled it up, and tossed it into a nearby trash can. "How's your knee feeling?"

This was the first time Fang had asked about my newest injury. I'd given him just little explanations of my - many - past ones.

"Oh, it's fine. Just a little sore." I shrugged and tossed my cup into the same trash can Fang had.

My knee really didn't hurt all that bad. Usually I was able to ignore an injury pretty well, as long as I wasn't focused on it. But sometimes that didn't happen because, like with my broken nose, _everybody _saw and _everybody _mentioned it.

"Want to go to the park and play some ball?" Fang asked, raising his eyebrows. "I've got a ball in my car."

"Yeah, sure." I pulled my sweatshirt over my shoulders, no doubt screwing up my hair.

Wait a second. Did I, the athletic girl that used tape as a bobbi pin, seriously just think that? Yeah, I think I did. What the hell?

We got back in Fang's car and I said, "Isn't it past curfew? It's a few minutes till twelve."

"We're in the good part of town, Max," Fang said, as if it was obvious. Which I guess it should be. I just don't think clearly with Fang around - at all. I think his cologne - which, for the record, is _amazing _- got to my head. "The cops will be on the north end. We'll be fine."

"If you say so," I said as if I was doubting him, but he just smiled at me. Smiled isn't really the right word. Sideways grin/smirked at me would probably be more fitting.

When we got to the park Fang dug through the back of his cluttered car, searching for the basketball, while I sat in the middle of the rundown cement court and worked on my knee. It was okay for the most part, as long as I didn't jump-jump. I could just extend onto my toes, which I knew would affect my shots, but was better than nothing.

"So," Fang said, dribbling the ball and walking toward me simultaneously, "one-on-one?"

"You're on," I told him, standing up. I'd been stretching a little, even though I was still stretched for the most part from the game.

I hadn't really let it sink in quite yet that we were the District Champs (two years in a row now). But as I thought about it, I remembered that we only had one for-sure game left. And it counted - boy, did it count. We won, we went on to State. We lost... A repeat disappointment of last year, and the lowlight of my senior year.

"What's the winner get?" I asked. What? I was a little competitive, okay. More than a little. But I knew Fang would be too, and I loved a game where both sides wanted the win like nothing they've ever wanted before.

Fang stopped dribbling, thinking for a moment. "How about," he said, tossing the ball to me and getting ready, "a kiss."

"A kiss?" I repeated dumbly. I wasn't sure if I'd heard him right. And every kiss I'd had before this wasn't a prize or a little bet. This game would be _huge _if Fang had really just said that.

"I said 'to diss,' actually," Fang said, straightening up. But then he smiled (oh yeah, sideways grin/smirked) and nodded. "Like, diss the loser? But I like your idea better."

"Ha ha, very funny. I know you said kiss." I dribbled the ball a few times.

"Well I guess you'll never know, huh?"

While Fang was off guard, I leapt to the right, catching all my weight on my good knee, and extended up, shooting the ball toward the ratty, cheap net. It was kind of hard to aim, since it was so dark out, but the rim was red, so it was visible against the night.

"Nice one," Fang said. "Now I won't let you get anymore."

"Oh, 'let me,' huh?" I chuckled, and then our little competition really got going.

**XxX**

I am ashamed to say this, but Fang beat me. It was close (I was just two behind when he reached our mark of thirty points) but it was still an obvious win on his part.

"My knee held me back," I explained as soon as the shot was through and we both knew he won.

"Oh well. So how bout that kiss?" Fang smirked at me, tossing me the ball and then walking closer.

I stepped forward to close the gap between us, so that my nose was just an inch or so from his chin. I looked up through my eyelashes, and Fang was looking down at me with a...with an almost _serious _look on his face. Almost.

"Close your eyes," I said, trying to use that sexy voice that the girls use in all the movies while they're seducing a guy. It was a total fail on my part, but Fang obeyed anyway, puckering his lips and looking cocky as hell.

And then I pushed the basketball against his lips, cracking up at his shocked expression. His eyes snapped open as soon as he felt the rough outer layer of the ball on his lips, and he jerked his head back away as quick as physically possible.

"Not fair," he said right away, using his sleeves to wipe his lips.

"You just said the winner got _a _kiss," I reminded him, bouncing the ball once. "You never specified from who...or _what_."

"Max," Fang said in a voice that stopped my laughter.

I felt like a deer in headlights (but a suicidal, happy deer) as Fang pushed a few stray hairs out of my face. But his hand stopped on the back of my neck, and he pulled me slowly and gently toward him. My eyes fluttered closed as I dropped the ball and my hands wound around his neck, and then we were kissing.

* * *

**Aw, how cute! Sorry if it sucks, but... I know the author's note is long, but just read it please. It's important.**

**So I've got some good news and some bad news. What do you want to hear first. The good news? Okay.**

**I can officially do a double full on a hard floor! Yay! So now my tumbling's getting there, and my stunting, so I've just got to get my jumps _exceptional_!**

**And the bad news now. Sigh. Today at school we ran the mile, and I felt like crap, so I went home. But I could hardly breathe. So my mom took me to the hospital. And after undergoing a few tests and a (super scary!) X-ray, we found out I have pneumonia. Mild pneumonia, but it is what it is. Thought you guys should know that, just in case the chapter did suck.**

**PLEASE, PLEASE, _PLEASE _GO TO MY PROFILE AND VOTE ON THE POLL!**

**And review. :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**Max**

There are certain kisses in life that just stand out. Usually the first, the best, the worst. But no matter what, there is that one kiss that you compare every other kiss to.

My first kiss was technically on the preschool playground when I was four. I don't remember it, and I think anything before seventh grade doesn't count as a real kiss, and I don't even know who it was with. We were just playing house on the playground, and I was the mom, and he was the dad, and we kissed.

My first _real _kiss was the summer after eighth grade and before freshman year. It was with a guy named Drew who was a year older than me. We met at the public swimming pool, continued running into each other, and eventually went to a movie. It was the cliche kiss that's in the middle of a movie where both people's lips are salty from popcorn and cold from Icees.

I kissed Tyler numerous times when we dated. The first time was at his prom when he was a junior and I was a sophomore. And there were many following that.

The one kiss from Tyler that really stood out to me wasn't even the best. Tyler was a senior and I was a junior at this point, and he was a _good _kisser. This kiss shouldn't have even technically counted.

My junior year I had the flu during prom, and so I couldn't go. I was sitting at home watching TV, the dress I'd picked hanging up in my closet, and I was bored out of my mind. Tyler came over and, since I was sick, just gave me a little peck on the cheek before we sat down on the couch and watched a bunch of scary movies.

But none of my past kisses had anything on kissing Fang.

Kissing Fang was...bliss. His lips were soft and gentle, but at the same time rough and urgent. One hand tangled up in my hair, and the other was at the small of my back, keeping my body as close as physically possible to his. My lips parted, and so did his, and my knees felt so weak that I was afraid I would collapse right then and there, just pass out.

How embarrassing would that be?

When we finally pulled apart, I bit my cheek and looked down at my feet. I looked up and saw that Fang was biting the inside of his cheek too, to keep from smiling. Like, really smiling. Not his twitchy smirk thing.

"Rematch!" I yelled suddenly, quickly snatching up the ball from where it'd landed.

"But I beat you the first time," Fang said. It wasn't a whiney voice, but it was the closest Fang would come to one. He smirked suddenly. "What's the winner get this time?"

"What do you think?" I dribbled the ball and said, "All the rules are the same, so is the winner's prize."

"You're on."

**XxX**

The next day was Saturday and, since Fang and I stayed out till five in the morning playing game after game of ball, I slept until one in the afternoon. Which, needless to say, didn't really make my mom's day.

"Max!" Mom yelled.

"Hmm?" I managed to groan. I had just woken up and was holding my phone, reading texts I'd missed from friends. And Fang.

"Get your butt out of bed! The pancakes are cold by now!"

I rolled my eyes and stayed where I was, knowing full well that if I just ignored her, Mom would leave me alone. I continued going through my texts for a while, and then I got up.

I threw on some sweats and a T-shirt, grabbed my car keys, told Mom where I was headed, and then I was out of there.

But not before I sent a text to wish Iggy luck at his game. Against Fang.

**Fang**

"So when do we get to meet this mystery girl?" Jon asked while we were warming up for the game.

Our game was fairly early for Districts. It was one-thirty and we had ten more minutes to warm up before we got going with the national anthem and then the actual game.

"What mystery girl?" I asked as I took a shot. It was a two-pointer, a somewhat easy shot for me, and it didn't go through the hoop.

"Fang." Jon grabbed the ball that I was getting ready to take, and made me listen to him. "Your shots have been off all day. They haven't been this bad since you were hungover at senior night last year."

"Thanks, man," I said, and I grabbed the ball from his hands, taking - and missing - another shot.

I glanced over at the door to see Max walking in, holding her phone and glancing around to see if she knew anybody. She saw me, smiled and waved, and headed over to the Nixon student section.

I figured my shots were so off because I knew I would be playing Max's little brother. I wanted my team to win like no other (this was _Sectionals _we were talking about) but I also knew Max wanted her brother to do well. And I knew it would be bad for her either way.

And let me say, honestly, that no girl had _ever _made me feel _conflicted _about _winning_. Ever. In my life.

I went back to warming up, making about ten percent of the shots I took. And I usually make, like, ninety-nine point nine nine percent of the shots I take.

Coach came over, looking furious, and said, "What the hell's the deal, Walker?"

"I'm just having an off day, Coach," I muttered, running a hand through my hair.

Coach seriously looked like he wanted to punch me, and usually his solution to a problem like this was to make us run twenty laps. But being as how we had a total of seven more minutes to warm up, and people were starting to arrive, he couldn't exactly do that.

"This isn't the _time _for an off day, Walker," Coach hissed. "Figure out what the problem is. Hell, go grab some food if that will solve it. Just figure out what the hell is going on and _fix it_." Coach turned and stomped away furiously.

Taking his advice, I jogged up into the Nixon student section, getting more dirty looks in those five seconds than in my whole life.

"What?" Max asked when I reached her at the top, and she stood up.

I saw that she had a special brace on her knee, so I figured she'd run to the doctor finally. I would ask her what the diagnosis was, but after the game, after I figured out this issue.

"Tell me that you won't hate me if we win," I spit out. I knew everybody on my team and everybody that went to Nixon was looking, which pretty much meant the cat was out of the bag.

"What?" Max shook her head, exhaling in what was almost a laugh. "Seriously, Fang? My team beat yours, which probably had tons of your friends on it, and I never asked for permission. Of course I won't hate you if you win. Play hard, because my brother will be too."

I smiled, feeling instantly better. I ducked down to kiss her, not caring in that moment who was looking, but she put a hand on my shoulder to stop me.

"You're all sweaty," she laughed. "Now get out there and win yourself a District title."

**Max**

"Congratulations," I said to Fang as soon as he came out of the locker room after the game. He'd put on some jeans and a basketball T-shirt, and his hair was damp from the quick shower he'd taken.

"Thanks." Fang put an arm around my shoulder as we walked out, and everybody - _everybody_ - was looking at us. But I didn't really care. "How's your brother?"

"Iggy?" I shook my head, laughing. "Oh he's fine. Better than fine, actually. None of the Nixon guys really wanted to win, 'cause there's a big party the night of Sectionals that they didn't want to miss." I shrugged, getting in the passenger side of Fang's car. "I guess that just proves how much more dedicated girls are."

"Ha ha." Fang turned on his radio as we started to head toward the little pizza restaraunt we were going to. "Don't get cocky, Max." He raised one eyebrow in a way that was playful, and it made my heart flop a little bit.

Oh, God. I was becoming such a...such a _girl_.

* * *

**Finals week! Ugh!**

**School gets out in two days. I move in nine. How sad is this?**

**Story time! I was doing a double into the pit at practice last night, because sometimes I land it but it's not 100% yet, and I coughed _right in the middle of my backhandspring_. Needless to say the whole thing was a total fail, but I tripped right into the pit and survived! Yay!**

**Don't forget to vote on the poll on my profile, please.**

**And let's all pray for the families that were affected by the tornadoes in Joplin, Minneapolis, and the other midwest towns hit.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Max**

Fang and I were sitting on opposite sides of a sparkly red booth on black and white checkered floors. The town's pizza parlor (we'd wanted a change from Sonic, where I always seemed to end up), Patty's Pizza Parlor, had a whole seventies (sixties? Eighties?) feel to it. With the sparkly booths and checkered floors, the jukebox and the waitresses on roller skates, it was pretty entertaining.

Fang and I had ordered a large pizza - half supreme for Fang, half pepperoni for me - and were eating it without even pausing for conversation.

I ate three slices, which is _half _of what I would eat after a game, and Fang ate five. There were four slices left over, and Fang and I were on the verge of rubbing our bellies and moaning pitifully.

"We can do it," Fang said, pushing two of the pepperoni toward me and one supreme and one pepperoni toward himself. He looked down at the two pieces as if he was doubting himself.

"I don't know..."

"Oh, come on." Fang rolled his eyes at me. "You're telling me you can play basketball on a torn MCL but you can't eat two more pieces of pizza?" Fang shook his head, acting as though he was disappointed in me. "Wow, Max. I thought better of you."

"Okay, it's only a Grade I, which means that it's not even a complete tear. Usually people can return to sports after one or two weeks, and the doctors just said that my swelling was slightly more than a usual Grade I so they _recommended _the brace." I exhaled, crossing my arms and rolling my eyes like he should know this. "Jeez, Fang, you should know this stuff."

Fang raised his eyebrows at me, and then he was stuffing the first slice of pizza into his mouth.

"Oh no you don't," I said loudly, and I snatched one of my slices.

Fang and I sat there and stuffed our faces for a few moments, having found entertainment in our little game of Finish-the-Pizza-Before-the-Opponent-Does! And I am quite proud to say that I actually beat Fang at this game...even though that's not something most girls would be proud of. Oh, well.

"In my defense, I'd already eaten almost twice as much as you," Fang said after he finished the last piece of crust.

I thought of Fang and my game of basketball from the night before, where I'd made a similar excuse.

"Sucks for you," I said, shrugging.

Then Fang, being a dork and also clearly thinking of our game last night, said, "So how bout that kiss?"

"Um...how bout we both go wipe off our faces first?"

Fang laughed, put a five dollar bill on the table, and grabbed my hand so we could head out of the restaraunt.

But at the door we ran into a group of about a dozen guys and girls. They were all wearing Bishop sweatshirts and most of the girls had red and white war paint under their eyes, so I knew that this was a group of people who'd been at the game tonight.

"Yo, Fang!" yelled somebody, and he came up and did that thing guys do, the little handshake chest bump thing. "I didn't think you could make it tonight."

I felt awkward, out of place, and like I didn't belong as Fang made up some excuse. I was slightly behind Fang, and I could see that most of the group had already noticed me. And let's just say I hadn't gotten so many dirty looks at one time in my life.

"Who's that?" asked the guy who was talking to Fang, jerking his head at me.

"That? Oh, that's, um, that's..."

"I'm Max," I said, stepping forward so that I was in full view of them all.

And let's just say that when they all spotted my Nixon sweatshirt, the dirty looks didn't exactly go away. Quite the opposite, actually. And when they all spotted my knee brace poking out from under my black basketball shorts, they all recognized me as the girl who'd gotten hurt at yesterday's game.

Fang's arm snaked around my waist, pulling me to his side, and the awkwardness only increased.

"Well, uh..." The guy Fang had been talking to scratched his forehead. "We better go grab some booths. You two have a good time. Nice to meet you, Max." He shot Fang a look.

"Nice to meet you, too," I said, even though I didn't even know the guy's name.

The whole group made their way slowly past us, and I noticed that most of the dirty looks that had been directed at me were now being shot - twice as dirty - at Fang. Fang just kept his head down and, after the group was gone, he pulled me out to his car.

"I'm sorry," I said after we'd been driving in silence for a few minutes.

I felt guilty. Maybe if I hadn't stepped forward like that they would've just assumed I was another one of Fang's toys. And maybe they wouldn't be so completely pissed off at him. But now they all were (or at least it seemed that way to me), and it was all thanks to me.

"No big deal," Fang finally said. "So where are we going?"

"My place," I blurted without thinking. But it was somehow the right thing to say. "I want you to meet my family."

**Fang**

Max's house was just ouside of town, at the top of a long, winding gravel driveway. With a forest to the right of it and the highway to the left, it would've been the perfect horror movie scene.

Except there was light coming from all the windows, and the porch light was on to reveal a little porch swing with a quilt draped over the back of it. A little black dog yapped and ran alongside the truck the whole way up the driveway, and I was afraid I was going to run it over.

"Don't worry about Total," Max said, referring to the dog. "He's a total idiot. He chases cars down the highway all day, so he knows to avoid going in front of the tires."

I was nervous when I got out of the truck, but Max grabbed my hand and pulled me up the porch stairs.

"So, uh, who's all here?"

Max stopped in front of the door and turned to look at me.

"My mom, Iggy, Dylan."

She blurted the last name quickly, as if she wanted me to miss it.

"Dylan?"

"Oh, don't worry. I'm sure they'll all be nice."

Max got on her tippy toes and kissed me on the cheek, and then she opened the door and called, "Mom? I've got someone for you to meet."

* * *

**That chapter was totally one of the worst I've ever written. And I am _so sorry _for that.**

**I need some help. I'm going shopping tomorrow to stock up on books for the move, because Mom and Dad are insisting we drive all the way to Georgia. So help me out. What are some good books that I've probably not read yet? I need a long list, so give me as many as possible.**

**And if you didn't know this yet, the poll is over and the new story is officially started! Head over to my profile and check it out please.**

**Review! (:**


	14. Chapter 14

**Max**

I could tell Fang was anxious as I snatched his hand and pulled him into the house. I tossed my keys on the table, grabbed a couple Gatorades for me and Fang, and then I made my way to the bottom of the stairs.

"Mom!" I hollered, holding onto the banister for support.

Fang was looking around as if this was the most uncomfortable he'd been in a lifetime. He looked like a deer in headlights. A bunny in view of a fox. One of those cute little baby seals when they see a... Okay, you get the point. He looked freaked.

"What do you need, Max?" Mom called back down. I could tell from the direction and volume of her voice that she was in the laundry room.

I didn't answer her, instead turning back to Fang. He was looking _more _scared than the last time I'd looked at him, if that was even possible. And trust me - it completely was. The dude looked just like the president after he slips up and says something he's not supposed to. Oops...let's not do that again.

"You told me the other day you were good with parents," I said, taunting him. I smiled teasingly, hoping to get him to relax and just breathe.

Tyler had always been my mom's favorite. Our parents were good friends, he was a nice football jock who could "protect me" when we went out, and he always made sure to keep all his mistakes and party photos out of the public view.

But I hoped so much that Mom would like Fang. As long as Iggy and Dylan hadn't said anything about the rumors, I should be fine. And trust me, when my mom doesn't approve, she is the-Hulk-growing-and-turning-green mad. Yeah. That mad.

She'd always been very...honest about her opinions.

"I meant _mine_," Fang finally replied. "What I meant was, I can always shove my dirty clothes under the bed so that my mom thinks my room is clean so I can go out. I have never - never in my _life _- been good with girls' parents. Plus if your brothers got to your mom and dad I'm sure -"

"My dad isn't around," I interjected quickly.

"Oh, is he working late?" Fang looked honestly relieved.

God. Why hadn't I explained the whole Max-has-no-daddy situation _before _bringing him to meet the family?

"He's, uh, dead." I looked down at my hands and started to fidget with a hangnail.

Usually when I broke the news to people, they would get this look like they just got ran over by a truck. Then they'd get all quiet, and they'd try to make polite conversation, but it would just be awkward, and so we would never really be more than buddies. That's why my only really good friends are ones I've had since childhood. I didn't want that to happen with Fang. At all.

With a big sigh, I looked up at Fang, and was surprised at what I saw.

He wasn't giving me that look of pity, of oh-I-feel-so-sorry-for-the-kind-of-orphan. He just had his arms crossed and his eyebrows raised, like he was waiting for me to say something.

"Well?" he said expectantly.

"Um." I popped my fingers. "Sorry, what?"

"I said, do you want to talk about it?"

"Oh, no, it's fine. It happened forever ago." I grabbed Fang's lower arm and started to pull him up the stairs. About halfway there, I said, "I mean, maybe later."

**Fang**

I tried not to think too much about Max's dad as we jogged up the stairs. Max gave me a mini-tour as we walked down the hallway.

"My room," she said, opening a door to a fairly plain room with lots of basketball posters.

"Iggy's room." A room with red walls, black and gold blankets, and a blue fan. The dude had to be colorblind. "Iggy's at his party," Max reminded me.k

"Dylan's room."

I peered in, instantly regretting it. Beyond the door, which had an "Army Strong" sticker on it, was a completely, creepily organized room. And the guy sitting on the bed on a laptop was completely, creepily huge.

_Reminder, _I thought to myself, _never hurt Max. Or face the wrath of Dylan._

"Dyl, this is Fang," Max said to her brother, leaning casually against the door while I stood awkwardly in the hall.

"I know him." Dylan shut his laptop and pushed it aside. "Max, you go talk to Mom. I want to talk to Fang real quick."

I swear to God, my blood started pumping faster and I could hear my heartbeat. I felt like I had twice the adrenaline than I had right before a huge game. But not quite _positive _adrenaline. Not that there's any negative adrenaline, but...

"No," Max said to Dylan right away, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly.

"Max -" Dylan looked..._afraid _in that second. Of Max.

Damn. This one's a keeper.

"No, Dyl! If you want to talk to Fang, you'll have to come into Mom's room and talk with all of us."

Max grabbed my arm and pulled me away, but not before Dylan flashed me a dirty look equivilant to the ones Max had gotten from my friends at the pizza restaraunt. And it's not like I didn't deserve it, what with all the rumors that fly around in high school.

Then I found myself facing Max's mom, who looked nothing - _nothing _- like Max. She was short and a little round, and she was clearly of Spanish descent, with the tan skin, brown hair and eyes.

When she looked up she gave Max a secretive look, and she looked surprised when she saw me enter right behind Max.

"Oh." Max's mom pushed aside the binder she was looking in, and stood up. "Hello. I'm Max's mom, but you can call me Val."

"Um. I'm Fang. Nicholas Walker, but I go by Fang." I shook Max's mom's - _Val's _- hand

After a little while, Max and I were sitting on the floor playing Slapjack while Max's mom was acting as the referee. I was getting smoked when Val brought up the rumors.

"You said you were Nick Walker?" Val asked, and she went on without waiting for verification. "My sons have told me some...not-so-pleasant things about you."

I tried to act nonchalant and uncaring as I shrugged. I tried to act _innocent_. Because most of the rumors - most, not all - were true.

"Well, uh, you know high school," I muttered, hoping we could jsut leave it at that.

We sat there in silence for a few moments, Max secretly sending me encouraging smiles and mouthing things that I couldn't quite keep up with. The game was at a standstill, and we were all waiting for the ref to make up her mind on the player.

"I'll let you off easy this once," Val finally said, "but only because I've done it with all of Max's other boyfriends. Just don't hurt my daughter."

"No trouble at all, ma'am," I muttered, and I squeezed Max's hand.

**Sorry it's been so long, and sorry this chapter was so short. I'm not completely moved into my house in Georgia yet, but right now I'm at a cheer camp that is required to try out. I've been here for four days. And I'm soooooo homesick! But I don't know if I'm homesick for my house in California or for my family at the new house!**

**Sigh.**

**Reviews?**


	15. Chapter 15

**Max**

"_Practica el baloncesto_!" I screeched as I ran down the hallway.

I'd just gotten finished with Spanish class and, as always, it took me a while to get my mind converted back to English. But what the hell, as long as I was thinking in Spanish I might as well show off my awesome tongue roll on the _R_, right?

"Max Martinez," hissed Mr. Hannibal, the science teacher, as I sprinted down the hallway. "You're disturbing my class. Shouldn't you be in class anyway?"

I stopped running down the hall, since I knew - from personal experience - that Mr. Hannibal didn't go shy on the detention slips. (Okay, don't give me that look. I took a smoothie to his class. It's not like I was smoking weed in the bathroom, which _those _people never seem to get in trouble for.)

"Well, Mr. Hannibal, I'm a senior, you see. There is one hour left of class, as the clock shows. Seniors skip. Whoop-dee-do." That is what I _wanted _to say, and what any other average senior student would say to their first semester teacher _second _semester.

But what I spit out instead was the truth: "Basketball girls have practice out the wazoo for Sectionals. Two-fifteen till eight tonight. We get out of class early."

Lemme explain something real quick. Mr. Hannibal isn't that one teacher that's a total dork that everybody loves in person but hates as a teacher. He's not the guy that loves all the athletic kids and lets them just jump into a class whenever they skip. Nope, that teacher is Mr. Roserie.

Picture the teacher you hate most. The one that gives homework _every freaking night _and always chooses to pick on the kid that may or may not have Asperger's Syndrome. The one that doesn't give a crap about any sport or extracurricular activity _except _marching band, just because they lead it.

Got that teacher (or one in the same ballpark)? Okay. That's Mr. Hannibal.

So I was super surprised by his response: "Oh, alrighty. Good luck at Sectionals."

I stood there, blinked in shock, and thought, _Who are you and what did you do with Mr. Hannibal?_

"Oh. Um, okay."

I started to turn around, but Mr. Hannibal stopped me again.

"Just do me one favor, Max?" The evil glint in his eyes returned. "Tell your brother he needs to do summer school."

"Will do," I hurriedly said, and I got out of there before Mr. Hannibal could choose to turn on me.

In the locker room I threw on a neon green cutoff over my black sports bra as well as some long black basketball shorts. After throwing my hair into a quick and sloppy ponytail, tape and all, and tying my shoes on, I went to the gym and jogged my five warm-up laps.

I sat down in the corner to wait for the rest of the girls to finish, and Maddie was after me, although she looked practically dead.

Maddie's eyes had dark bags under them, and it was clear she wasn't wearing her Chapstick, and her hair was frizzy like she hadn't straightened it this morning. She looked, honestly, awful, and I wondered why I hadn't noticed it in Spanish class.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked, jerking my head to get her attention.

Okay, so I wasn't giving her a big ol' hug or being sincere, but what was I? A therapist? Nope, I was the best friend, and best friends know how to make their best friend feel good again. And hugging isn't a good way. Hugging just makes somebody want to cry (or cry harder, if they already are).

See? I'm observant. I notice things.

"I'm freakin' jealous of you," Maddie said.

Um. That wasn't what I expected to hear.

Maddie and I have _never _gotten jealous of each other. I've always been the athletic silly one, and she's always been the athletic smart one. We evened each other out, completed each other, as cheesy as it sounds. People in school don't just gossip about me or Maddie; they gossip about me _and _Maddie.

Okay, bad example. The point is, we're two peas in a pod. So why was Maddie _jealous _of me?

"Why?" I stammered.

"Your love life is, like, perfect," she spit out.

"My _love life_?" I asked incrediously. "Fang and I may be Facebook official, but we're still not even talking about the L-word. Besides, I'm sure we'll have little bumps in the road, arguments and fights and issues. Our schools, for example. Is that what's going on? Are you and Lloyd fighting?"

Maddie dropped her head into her hands, appearing merely bored. But this was my friend. I knew how close she was to the edge. The question was, what edge?

"He really wants us to, you know, do _it _for is eighteenth birthday," Maddie whispered quietly.

"Why? It wouldn't be a present, since he's not exactly a virgin."

Maddie groaned pitifully, and so what few girls were sitting around us scooched away, getting the message that Maddie and I needed to be alone.

"I know, but I am! And he knows it, and he swears -"

"He swears what, Maddie? That he'll keep it a secret? That he'll love you the same afterward? Let's think about Tracie, and Krystal, and Jaycee..."

I listed off all the girls that Lloyd had (literally) screwed over, destroying their innocence and their reputation at school. When a guy has sex his friends high-five him, and when a girl does, her friends exclude her entirely.

"Shut up, Max! It's not like Fang hasn't done it!"

That got me thinking about a new topic for Fang and my dinner tonight.

**Fang**

Have you ever sat down at a fairly nice restaraunt to enjoy a peaceful, not-fast-food meal? And have two high school kids ever stormed into that meal wearing their sweaty gross basketball clothes, holding hands, and talking about dessert?

Well, that's probably just about - exactly - what Max and I did when we walked into Paco's Tacos at eight-thirty, half an hour after Max's practice ended and fifteen minutes after mine.

Needless to say, we were both super busy with all these extra practices preparing us for Sectionals.

"Hungry?" I asked as I sat across from Max in a booth, picking up a menu and glancing at it.

"Starving." Max picked up a menu of her own. "What do you usually get when you come here? I've never eaten here before, so I don't know what..."

I popped my neck, then my knuckles, then my shoulders, and then I scanned the menu for my usual. I didn't eat here a ton, but I really only liked one thing on the menu. I'd only brought Max here because her last name is Martinez and that's a hispanic name (I think) and tacos are hispanic.

I'm not quite sure where I got that logic, since the only things I'd ever seen Max eat were pizza, Sonic, and McDonald's.

"I usually get the chicken and cheese quesadilla."

"Okay, I'll try that."

Max put her menu down and sipped at the root beer that she'd ordered.

I could tell that she was distant tonight, that her mind was on other things. I wanted to ask what, but most of the girls I had experience with were ones that would just burst into tears and spill everything out. I didn't picture Max as that kind of girl and, honestly, I was kind of afraid to find out what she would do.

"Are you, uh, okay?" I found the bravery to ask.

My hand quivered as I reached for my Dr. Pepper, and I hoped Max didn't notice. My mind was screaming, _Wimp, wimp, wimp! _But really, if _Dylan_, the huge army dude a few years older than Max, was scared of her, than shouldn't I be at least a tiny bit afraid? At least a little tiny bit? Of course, I wasn't just a tiny little teensy weensy bit afraid. My hands were shaking and my heart was pounding.

I was so whipped.

Max put her elbows on the table and sighed, picking up a piece of bread and picking at some of it.

"You'll think I'm a dork when I say this, but I feel like we don't know each other very well. Like, at all."

"I don't think you're a dork," I replied. "And actually, you're probably right. So what should tonight's dinner be about? Interviewing each other?"

Max smirked, and I could tell right away that she was going to make this into a competition, or at least a game, like she always preferred to. It made things interesting, as she'd told me a few times.

"Twenty questions," she explained, "only it goes for as long as we have questions. We just swap and we can't not answer a question."

She raised a brow, as if asking if I accepted the dare.

"Let's do it."

**Soooo sorry it's been so long! I try to alternate between updating this story and the other, but I like to take breaks, so... At least it's a fairly long chapter (for me) to make up for the wait. I hope.**

**Next chapter we'll find out more about our favorite characters! If you have anything specific you wanna know, put it in your review for who and I'll have the other ask.**

**Review, please!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Sooooooooooo sorry it's been so long! But I've got a reason, and I'll really try to make this one good. Also, I've got some good news and some bad news. Which do you want first? Bad? Oops, sorry, you kinda have to hear the good first. GOOD NEWS: I made my cheer team! I am _so _relieved! :) BAD NEWS: We practice four to five times a week for four hours, and I already live kinda far from the gym, so I'll barely be getting my homework done, let alone updating frequently. But I'll sure try. :)**

* * *

**Max**

I decided to start our game of Twenty Questions on a light, fun mood, instead of delving into the questions I _really _wanted to know Fang's answers to. I figured I could gradually get to those.

"Boxers or briefs?" I asked, smirking like I was the most evil person ever as I picked up an onion ring.

Fang snorted at how proud I was, but still said, "Boxers. And what about you, Maxie? Panties or thongs?"

I almost dropped the onion ring dangling out of my mouth, because I was surprised Fang would be so...straightforward. But I quickly shook it off and answered. "Ha. Like I would wear butt floss. I don't know what girls think is so attractice about that."

"Did you seriously just call thongs _butt floss_?" Fang asked, chuckling a bit. "I'll have to remember that."

"Well that's what it _is_," I defended. Then went on. "Now, how do - "

"Hey, hey, hey, it's _my _turn to ask," Fang interrupted.

"But you asked the panties or thongs question," I reminded him.

"That was a spin-off of yours. So it's my turn. Why is Dylan so scared of you?"

I laughed to myself, taking a drink as I went back to last year. Dylan and a couple of his buddies from Iraq (the ones without kids or wives or anything to go home to) decided to come home with Dylan while on leave, since all he did was brag about his 'super-hot ex-girlfriend' and his 'little sister with skills.'

"Technically it's Dylan and a bunch of his army friends who're scared of me," I corrected Fang.

"Well...?"

"He brought home his little buddies basically to show off his ex-girlfriend, because they didn't believe him when he told them how good-looking she was, and to show off his little sister, because they couldn't believe I was so athletically...gifted."

"Who's his ex?" Fang asked, taking a sip of his drink innocently.

"Shut up," I murmured, slapping his arm playfully. "Basically his friends were being a bunch of dumbasses, and they decided to come into my room to try and scare the crap out of me. But they ended up walking in on me getting dressed, and so I was _pissed_. I threw on a shirt and I left his friends alone, but then I went into Dylan's room and beat the shit out of him. Poor guy didn't have anything to do with it either. He claims that I looked possessed, so he's terrified of making me mad."

"Jeez," Fang said, "remind me to never make you mad, okay?"

"Whatever." I rolled my eyes. "Your turn."

"How many boyfriends have you had?"

"Like, _real _boyfriends? Not just the guy you talk to a lot in sixth grade so you decide to be boyfriend and girlfriend and never even kiss or anything?" What? I had to verify what he meant. Because I'd had my fair share of boyfriends. Not exactly a ton of _real _boyfriends.

"Let me decide what I mean." Fang strummed his fingers on the table. "Guys you've kissed."

"Well if we're doing that, technically three. You, Tyler, and then this guy in eighth grade," I said.

Fang choked on his soda for a moment and said, "You didn't have your first kiss till _eighth grade_? I mean, sorry if I offend you, but I'm surprised. You're a pretty girl, Max. How, may I ask, did you manage to wait until eighth grade?"

"Believe it or not, I was pretty awkward up until my freshman year. I was all tall and gangly, which I'm still tall but not as gangly, and my ears were too big for my head. But I grew into them." I chuckled. "My turn? I'll steal your question."

"Okay, um..." Fang paused to think and count on his fingers, and he was up to his sixth finger when I realized he _wasn't joking_. The boy had definitely had his share of kisses and girlfriends. "Three girlfriends, not including you, and nine kisses, not including you."

"Wow." I blinked. "Impressive."

Fang had a cocky grin on his face, and he popped his knuckles smugly. "Well, sometimes I just can't keep the ladies away."

"You're _hilarious_," I said sarcastically, taking a cruton off of the salad the waitress had brought for me.

"I try." Fang thought for a moment. "Okay. Got one. Have you ever done drugs?"

"No way. I've never even had a single drink of alcohol in my life, let alone _drugs_. I'll steal your question again."

I eyed Fang as I picked at my salad (they'd put some fancy dressing on it, not ranch) and he seemed kind of torn on how to word his answer. Which alone was answer enough, but it was only fair to give him a chance to talk.

"I'll be honest," Fang said. "I have the occasional beer at parties, but I've never been off-my-ass drunk. Tried a cigarette once, but I felt like I was going to hack up my lungs, so that's in the past. As for drugs, I've got no experience."

"Are you a player?" I found myself blurting, not even caring that it wasn't my turn. The whole 'how many girlfriends and kisses' question still had my mind reeling. But Fang didn't seem to mind that I'd stolen his turn for questions.

"Define 'player,'" he muttered, twirling his straw around in his drink.

"Do you flirt with a ton of girls?"

"Well I wouldn't call myself a player, but when I'm single," he said, emphasizing this, "I do talk to a couple girls."

"O...kay. That, I can deal with. Your turn."

Fang looked like he was about to ask me something a little more serious than we'd started on, but we were interrupted by our waitress arriving with our food. She set the quesedillas down in front of us and, when we said we were okay for now, she left us alone.

"How many people have you slept with?" Fang blurted, like he would chicken out if he didn't just say it.

"Let's both say it on three," I murmured, my stomach churning.

This was the moment of truth.

"One," I began.

"Two," Fang added.

"Three," we said together.

"None," I blurted at the same time Fang said, "Three."

* * *

**I'm terrible. Two months (or something like that) without updating, and then I leave you with _this _ending. Hm. Oh well.**

**So this entire chapter was dialogue pretty much. Some would call it a filler, but I say Max and Fang got to know each other, and we got to know them a little more. Besides, it's _something_. I could've just not updated.**

**'Out of the Ordinary' will be updated as soon as I get my laptop back.**

**REVIEW, BECAUSE I'M BACK, BABY! :)**


	17. Sorry

**Hola, my dear readers. Feel free to be pissed at me, because this isn't an update. Yes, you read that correctly, THIS ISN'T AN UPDATE. It is, however, very, very, _very _important.**

**This story has been really tough for me to write. I began it last year when my school's girls' basketball team was doing very good. One of my good friends and my brother's (now ex-)girlfriend was on the team, and she was my inspiration to write this story. Unfortunately, she graduated and went to college with a softball scholarship. And then I moved, and my new school's team sucks. No offense, but yeah. They suck.**

**So my inspiration level has kind of dropped, but now that basketball season is back and my school's team (the boys, anyway) maybe it will come back.**

**Anyway, I'm not going to be stopping this story. But very soon I will be deleting all of it and starting fresh, because it's gone in a direction that I really didn't anticipate and, quite frankly, I don't know what to do with it. So there you have it, my impatient readers, you. This story will be STARTING OVER. Not stopping, not stalling, RESTARTING.**

**Thank you to those of you who have supported me throughout my many months of not updating, and I'm sorry that sometimes my stories go to shit right at the biggest cliffhanger. But it is what it is.**

**Thanks,**

**Abbi.**

**P.S.: Everybody go harass Fangrules (they're in my favorite authors list). Read the stories "War" and "Without My Soldier" and then PM the heck outta her telling her to write the sequel!**

**P.P.S.: Please check out my FictionPress account (by the same username). I just started a new story there.**


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